


Wild one

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Word of the day [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Erica, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Males, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banshee Lydia Martin, Beta Scott, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek tries to be a good Alpha, Explicit Language, F/M, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Language Barrier, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Malia is a coyote, Multi, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Training, Sassy Peter Hale, The Alpha Pack, Wild Stiles Stilinski, Wolf Derek, Wolf Peter, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a wildling in the forest, and Derek finds him one day. He wants to bring the wild young man into his pack, but Derek still has to deal with the loose ends of the Alpha pack, the Darach, and Erica and Boyd's kidnapping. Besides, Stiles trusts Derek's wolf more than his human form, and lashes out when Derek approaches him.</p><p>When Erica, Boyd, and Cora are rescued, they head straight into the forest and towards the territory of Derek's wildling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Word of the day: Wildling

Stiles crept along the tree branch, tracking the motion of the creature down below. A crude knife was held between his teeth and he was silent as he jumped between the trees nimbly. Barely a leaf fluttered, and his breathing was soft even to his own ears. He would never be heard unless he wanted it to be. He went still completely when the creature below tensed slightly, ears sharp and pointed, and it let out a howl. There was an answering howl, not too far away, and then the wolf left, bounding through the trees and far too fast for even Stiles to catch. He let out a snarl around the blade, and slipped down the tree trunk to the forest floor. He knew there were some berries in a bush nearby, and the weather hadn't changed so much that they would be inedible. Stiles crouched low to the ground and began to run through the forest towards his dinner.

Hidden in the encroaching shadows behind him, the wolf watched silently as the man disappeared from sight.

...

"There's a wildling in the forest," Derek announced when he returned to the loft to find the rest of his pack waiting.

"A what?" Scott, his beta, asked.

"A wildling's a wild plant, flower, or animal," Lydia said, rolling her eyes. "So which one is it, oh fearless leader?"

"None; it's a man. Well, he looks to be about your age," Derek said, nodding at Scott and Isaac briefly.

"Well, **that**  narrows it down superbly," Peter drawled, rolling his eyes. "Do you have anything more descriptive, perhaps, nephew?"

Derek let out a small growl his eyes turning red. Peter flinched from his Alpha, but didn't respond otherwise.

"I'll try to find him again tomorrow and let you know," Derek said briefly.

"How haven't we found this guy before?" Scott asked.

"He's in an area of the forest we don't generally go to," he replied, voice short and not allowing for any more questions.

"Should we be worrying about this right now?" Isaac asked hesitantly, looking between Derek and Peter. "I mean, the Darach's still out there, and the Alpha pack's still got Erica and Boyd hidden who knows where since you killed their leader."

"Lydia, go with Peter to try and find where Erica and Boyd are; try to use your banshee senses this time," Derek added coolly.

Lydia gave a brief nod, not looking pleased at being saddled with Peter again.

"Isaac, you and Scott try and find something about the Darach and what he wants. Use Allison as a last resort," Derek added.

Scott blushed, but both boys nodded, leaving the loft with Lydia and Peter not far behind them.

Derek was exhausted from his day of running through the forest and made his way to his bed. He was still new to being an Alpha, and his pack just wasn't working as a pack should. They barely listened to him (Derek somewhat blamed Peter's nonchalant attitude for this; he knew that his uncle only accepted him as Alpha because he'd killed Deucalion and therefore had more strength as an Alpha than Peter's own Alpha form did), and there were times when he thought that it might have been better if he hadn't killed Deucalion at all. Still, he had a pack again, and it was better than no pack at all.

He'd smelled the wild man in the forest almost a week ago, and there was a part of Derek that revelled in that scent, despite the fact that he couldn't place it. He wanted to roll over and present his stomach to whoever belonged to that scent, something that his Alpha wolf was in complete agreement with, and that terrified Derek more than he would admit to. Then today, when he'd seen the man's amber eyes, intelligence in his gaze, Derek knew that he'd found another part of his pack. He just didn't know how to get the young man's consent when he looked like he'd been raised by actual wolves and probably wouldn't understand what Derek was offering.

Derek fell asleep to the remembered scent of the wild man, his amber eyes haunting his dreams. Tomorrow, he would find the wildling, and Derek would make him understand what he was offering in the best way he could. Derek didn't really know why, but he just knew that he **needed** the wildling to be part of his pack. Maybe with the addition of the wildling, and his scent that reminded Derek of _something_ , they'd finally start feeling like a real pack.

...

Stiles watched with vague curiosity as the wolf neared his tree. It was sniffing softly, ears pricked as it listened out for something. Stiles cocked his head to the side, glancing from the wolf over to his knife. It wouldn't be too far of a stretch to get the knife, but he was still full from the berries and nuts he'd found the night before. He wouldn't want the wolf to go to waste. Stiles contemplated going back to sleep when he saw the wolf _shift_.

It was a slow process, and by the end of it, Stiles couldn't look away. In the wolf's place was a man. His heart raced at the sight of another human after so many years, and Stiles couldn't handle the shock or closeness of such a monster. He grabbed his knife, leapt down from the tree and sliced the monster up before he could do anything. His eyes widened when he saw the wound close before his eyes. Stiles tore his gaze away, clutched his knife tighter, and ran.

"Wait!" the monster called, but Stiles just kept running.

He was about to cross into the coyote's territory, but she looked out for him sometimes, and Stiles hoped that she wouldn't mind his trespassing today. He could hear the monster running after him, but Stiles was faster on two feet, and he soon lost the flesh-made monster, climbing up a tree in a matter of seconds to hide.

He waited, heart pounding in his chest and knife gripped in his hand, and watched the forest floor below. Stiles breathed softly but deeply, slowing his heartbeat to its normal slow pace, and tried to stop sweating onto the hilt of his blade.

Eventually, Stiles spotted the wolf nearby. It walked directly up to the tree he was hiding in and curled up at the trunk, snout resting on its front paws gently. Stiles refused to be tricked by the monster wearing the wolf. He had successfully hunted deer, waiting patiently for hours before leaping for his prey. This would be easy in comparison.

...

Derek had been caught off guard when the man dropped from the tree, snarling and slicing at him with a knife. He'd run off before Derek could do more than call for him to wait, but the stench of fear had been strong enough for Derek to follow after he shifted.

 _He hadn't been scared of his wolf in the slightest, but his human self terrified him. It was usually the other way around_ , Derek though to himself, padding his way through the forest carefully.

Derek didn't even have to glance up to know which tree the wildling was hiding in and simply settled down in front of the large tree easily.

Hours passed, but Derek didn't move until the sun set. He stood on all four paws, stretching his limbs with a wide wolf-toothed yawn. He'd come back tomorrow in his wolf form and see if the -

His thoughts were cut off abruptly when he heard a soft snarl from nearby, and Derek turned to see a coyote between the trees, teeth bared in anger at the intrusion. His eyes flashed red and he snarled in return, turning and leaving once the coyote whimpered and scampered away from him.

Derek left the forest without stopping, even though he could feel the gaze of the wildling on him the whole time.

Lydia announced that she knew where Boyd and Erica were later that night, and Derek didn't have a chance to tell them about the wildling or his response to Derek's human form.

They were able to rescue Boyd, Erica, and Cora ( _his youngest sister was alive and he'd never known_ ) a day later on the night of the full moon. All three were crazed with moon lust, and ran straight into the forest after Scott and Isaac. Peter and Derek ran after them, both snarling in their Alpha forms to try to get them to submit.

They ran further into the forest, Scott and Isaac working together to keep the three wolves away from the rest of Beacon Hills. It wasn't until they passed by the coyote's territory that Derek realised where they were headed. He leaped forward just as they came into the wildling's clearing, snarling loudly to get them to back down. Erica's eyes flashed uncertainly but Cora and Boyd didn't seem to respond. Then, without a sound or whisper of warning, Derek's wildling dropped from the trees straight onto Boyd's back, his knife plunged into the wolf's side.

Derek jumped forward - whether to protect his wildling or his beta, he didn't know - and then closed his jaws around Boyd's neck. The position made Boyd submissive immediately, and though there was some angry snarling, Boyd settled down. Spurred on by Derek's display, Peter jumped forward while Cora was distracted and did the same, both betas growling in anger, but no longer crazed.

When he was sure that Boyd would no longer be a threat, Derek let go of his beta and looked to where the wildling had been thrown from Boyd's back. He seemed to be breathing in short gasps, blood trickled down the side of his face, but it was a small wound and Derek could tell that he hadn't broken any bones or ribs, which was somewhat of a miracle in itself. The wildling looked at Derek with amber eyes, his bloodied hand loose around his knife, and then passed out.

"Well, I can certainly see the appeal of your little woodland creature," Peter remarked with a smug smirk.

Derek growled at him fiercely.

"Oh, don't worry, I have no designs on your creature. Would you like me to do your job as Alpha and turn him, or are you going to keep your precious creature the way he is?"

Derek hadn't actually thought about giving the wildling the bite. Sure, he wanted him to be part of his pack, but he hadn't thought of the specifics. Lydia was part of the pack and she was still human (more or less), so Derek didn't think he needed to make a decision right then and there. Besides, he would never do so without the person's permission. Not again.

He shifted back to human form - though his wolf protested, wanting to protect the wildling - and picked the young man up easily.

"We'll return to the loft and work out what to do from there. If you are going to be near him, then stay as close to your wolf as possible. He doesn't like humans," Derek said, glancing to the wildling briefly.

"All right, boys and girls, you heard your Alpha. Home time, patch up those wounds, and keep the wolves out in the open when dealing with his pretty little woodland creature."

Derek bit back his snarl at Peter, choosing to ignore him instead, and started walking through the forest with the rest of his pack following meekly.

When he returned to the loft, Derek had a pack to take care of and get under control; an Alpha pack to contain, make a treaty with, or outright kill (they were losing focus without their leader, and Scott and Isaac had already said that the twins were no longer at school - it smelled like they had fled the state entirely); a Darach to find and probably kill; and a long-lost sister to hopefully reunite with.

But for now, Derek would keep his focus on the wildling in his arms, and he could only bring himself to hope that the wildling would agree to become part of his pack one day.

...

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles blinked his way awake, confused at the stale smell in the air, the unfamiliar surface beneath his back, and the soft covering around his body. He tried to get away, but only managed to tangle himself in the soft thing, and fell to the floor with a thump. He growled angrily, wriggling to get free from his captor. His knife... _his knife, where was his knife?_ Stiles looked around for it but his soft captor covered his eyes with all of the movement he was making. He let out a small snarl, forcing himself to be calm, to be silent, to breathe. He heard movement beyond the white covering holding him captor and went still immediately. There was a ripping sound, and Stiles was free. He leapt out of the torn covering, growling and snarling in the base of his throat, then stopped abruptly because it was his wolf.

He frowned, head cocked to the side as he surveyed the animal, confused as to why it was willingly inside a monster's dwelling. Then he remembered the wolf changing _into_ a monster, and growled softly again. The wolf didn't seem to mind his growling, and simply nudged the white soft thing on the floor with its nose, huffing a sigh. Then it padded back over to the couch, jumped up onto the cushions and curled up as if bored with Stiles.

He wanted his knife, he had never been without his knife, not for as long as he cared to remember. Being without it now made him anxious and Stiles looked around for something to use as a temporary replacement weapon. The wolf watched him, interest piqued again, his ears pricked up curiously. Stiles ignored the monster in wolf's fur and moved around the room carefully, looking for something sharp.

There were a selection of long pieces of metal standing beside the fireplace, despite the bricks that lined the interior of said fireplace, and Stiles snatched up the pointy one, holding it close. He didn't know whether he could trust the monster, no matter that he was a wolf at that moment, so Stiles sat opposite the wolf, watching it warily as he clutched his temporary weapon. The wolf didn't seem impressed or intrigued any more, letting out a small huff and closing his eyes to sleep. For the next four hours, Stiles didn't dare to move, blink, or even breathe too loudly, not quite believing the heavy rise and fall of the wolf's sides.

The wolf woke up, yawning and stretching as only animals could do, and noticed Stiles still sitting there quietly. Cocking a head to the side, the wolf let out a woof of air, hopping down from the couch easily. Stiles tensed, though his body ached, and watched as the wolf came closer. The wolf sat half a metre away, watching Stiles, and glancing to the makeshift weapon in his hands. They didn't trust each other then. That was good enough for now. Stiles set the piece of metal aside, moving his body to stretch out his tight muscles, and after he heard a few things crack here and there, he moved to lie down on the floor, curling up to sleep. The wolf moved to settle down beside him, close enough that Stiles could hurt it if he wanted, but though he was surprised at the show of trust, he was too tired to do anything about it.

When he woke up, the sky was dark outside, the wolf was gone, and Stiles' knife was lying on the floor beside him.

...

"Was giving the wild creature a _sharp knife_ really the wisest decision?" Lydia asked Derek, eyebrow raised at her Alpha.

"It was a show of trust," Derek replied, shrugging. "He was anxious without it, and after he got hold of the poker from the fireplace, he didn't move while I was pretending to sleep for four straight hours."

"How did you have the patience to pretend to sleep for four hours?" Cora asked, sounding somewhere between impressed and disbelieving.

"Patience is a virtue I've learned to appreciate over the years," Derek answered, his voice more hesitant than he would've liked.

He still didn't quite know how to deal with Cora, or what to say to her, and Peter was no help. Their uncle had simply looked at Cora, welcomed her back with a light and an over the top expression of friendliness, and then he'd seemingly disappeared. He hadn't been seen since, but Derek didn't dare hope that he'd left the state or country entirely.

"What do you plan on doing with your wildling?" Lydia asked, eyebrow arched slightly.

"What do you mean by that?"

She rolled her eyes at his snarl, and sighed as though she thought he was an idiot. Of course, since it was Lydia, it was highly probable that she did think that of him.

"I mean, are you planning on releasing him back into the wild now that he's healing? Are you going to teach him to be more civilised? This could be a whole Tarzan rehabilitation thing you've got going. Him being Tarzan and you... well, you being Tarzan too. I guess I'll have to be Jane and educate the both of you," Lydia said with a smirk.

Cora laughed behind her hand while Derek just glowered at Lydia. She patted his cheek in a condescending way when she saw that he didn't have an answer for her, then turned and held out an arm for Cora.

"Let's go shopping before you're stuck in Derek's hand-me-downs," she said.

"All right, but be warned: I won't try on dresses, and if you try to force me, I _will_ bite you."

"Fine, all the more for me then," Lydia quipped, smoothing out her dress with her free hand before leading Cora out of the loft.

When they were gone, Derek sighed heavily and thought about what Lydia had said. He hadn't really thought this through; he just knew that he'd wanted the wildling in his pack. Now that he was in the loft with them all, Derek felt his wolf itching beneath his skin, driven by a need to bite the boy. But Derek would not do that without his consent. So, as Lydia had said, it would be up to _him_ to rehabilitate the wildling. All at once, Derek was especially glad for the presence of the others in his pack; maybe the wildling wouldn't turn out half bad with all of them helping him.

Derek shifted to his wolf form, heading through the loft to the room he'd given the wildling. He paused at the door before entering, listening carefully to see whether the wildling was awake or not. His heart was beating in a slow and measured pace, but Derek had found that he had the ability to do that even while awake.

He stood on his hind legs, using his front paws to lower the handle and open the door. He could see that the wildling was awake and was stabbing at the blanket with his knife. Derek sighed softly; he had liked that blanket. He entered slowly, not entirely sure about the response he would receive, especially while the wildling was holding a knife, and moved so that his behind hit the door and closed it properly.

The wildling stopped stabbing at the blanket, spinning around to face him and the knife gripped more firmly in his hand. Derek stayed still, waiting for an attack or sign that he could move closer. The Alpha in him didn't like giving control of the situation over to a human, no matter how he smelled, but Derek's somewhat more rational side knew it would be for the best. The wildling watched him curiously, a deep frown on his face as he considered the situation. Then he turned back to the blanket, flicking up pieces with the tip of his knife. Figuring that was as much of a go-ahead as he was going to get, Derek moved into the room properly and settled up on the couch. It was as much to protect his furniture as it was to keep an eye on the wildling; Derek just hoped that he wouldn't stab him open to see what was inside of _him_ too.

...

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later...

"Miss Martin, please stay behind after class. I would like to discuss your essay," Ms. Blake said with a brief smile in Lydia's direction before returning her attention back to the board.

Scott and Isaac traded glances across the classroom, Isaac raising an eyebrow at their English teacher's obvious lie. Scott shook his head briefly, and between them, Danny frowned at each of them in confusion.

Isaac decided to stay behind anyway, lingering in the hallway as Scott headed down to the changing rooms for lacrosse practice. Isaac was sure that Coach Finstock wouldn't miss him, anyway.

"What are you doing?"

Isaac whirled around to see Allison standing there, frowning at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Uh..."

Isaac hadn't expected to be questioned, and so, he really hadn't thought of a good lie. He had honestly expected everyone to have gone home already - it was a Friday afternoon, and excepting Ms. Blake and Coach, even the teachers were gone.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Isaac asked Allison, hoping to deflect her or at least stall until he could think of a good lie.

"I'm waiting for Lydia; she's my ride."

"Oh. Um... I'm just waiting. Out here. For... Ms. Blake."

Allison raised her eyebrow at him. "You're waiting for Ms. Blake?"

"Yeah. She gave me a D on my essay, and I wanted to talk to her about it," Isaac said.

"So, that whole staring thing you and Scott had going during class isn't about... all this?" Allison asked pointedly.

"St-staring thing? There was no staring thi... Okay, there might have been a staring thing," Isaac admitted; Allison didn't look surprised. "I'm just worried, okay? Lydia hasn't had to stay behind in class since second grade."

"And the fact that she's part of your werewolf pack means nothing?"

"Werewolf pack?" Isaac asked, voice almost an octave higher. "Wh-what are you... There's no such... I..."

Allison rolled her eyes at him and stepped closer, knife slipping out of _somewhere_  into her hand, and she pressed the tip against Isaac's stomach lightly. "I know everything, Isaac. Now, stop fucking around, and tell me what's wrong."

Isaac contemplated giving a sassy remark in response, but Allison pressed the knife in harder, sure to leave a hole in his new shirt, and he deflated a bit.

"Ms. Blake lied when she said she wanted to talk to Lydia about her essay; I heard the skip in her heartbeat."

Allison frowned slightly, knife going back to wherever the hell it came from ( _she was wearing a_ sundress _with no pockets_ _, what the hell?!_ ), and looked from Isaac to the window in the door behind him.

"If she lied, then why is Lydia still in there with her?"

Isaac realised that he'd lost concentration when Allison appeared, and spun around quickly to look into the classroom. Lydia was bound to a chair, her mouth gagged, and a grotesque version of Ms. Blake was trying to choke the life out of her. Isaac cursed and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. Lydia's face was turning the colour of her hair and Isaac growled under his breath, a small sound that started low in his chest. By the time he wolfed out, the noise had evolved into a roar the likes of which he'd never made before, and Isaac ripped the door clean off the hinges, the metal lock ripping the part of the frame. He raced inside, Allison barely a step behind him, and Ms. Blake let go of Lydia to turn on them instead.

Isaac had no idea what to do. His heart was racing, but he could hear every shaky inhale Lydia breathed through her nose now that her windpipe wasn't being crushed, and in the distance, Isaac was sure he could hear his Alpha roaring, Scott, Boyd, and Erica's roars echoing a heartbeat later. He didn't have time to process much more than that, Ms. Blake advancing on him with her twisted features and hands glowing. Isaac found that he couldn't fight back, couldn't lift a hand or move forward, and then his body contorted and twisted as unimaginable pain tore through his body. Allison shouted something to him, but he couldn't hear her over the wind that tore its way through the classroom.

There was another Alpha roar, this one much closer than before, and while Isaac was still stuck in his pretzel of pain, he saw that the wind had a shape to it, dark and black with red glowing eyes. The pain stopped as suddenly as it started, and Isaac heaved in a breath as he collapsed to the ground, his body under his own control again. He looked up to see Derek standing there, completely wolfed out with blood around his mouth and what looked to be a trachea in his hand.

"Derek?" Isaac breathed out in surprise.

Derek gave a brief nod in response, his features slipping back to normal, and he carefully untied Lydia and took the gag off her. Isaac was a little surprised to see Allison offer him her hand, but he accepted and let her pull him up. _She was stronger than she looked_ , Isaac realised as she lifted him almost with ease.

Derek looked between them for a moment, even as he leached Lydia's pain slowly and gently, the redhead looking as weary as she did grateful, then Derek gave Allison a firm nod of thanks.

"Why did you come? Why kill her?" Allison asked, though Isaac noticed she couldn't look at their former English teacher's body any more than he could.

"Isaac called, and she was going to hurt _my pack_ ," Derek replied, his voice almost a snarl.

There was a noise from the doorway, and Isaac turned quickly, thinking of the other betas or even the lacrosse team come to investigate, but instead, he saw the wildling in the doorway.

"I told you to _stay_ _outside_ ," Derek growled at the boy.

"No."

Isaac was just as pleased as he ever was that the wildling had grasped the concept of the word 'no'. While he also knew the word 'yes', 'no' seemed to be the wild boy's current favourite word and he used it _very_ often. At least he was wearing clothes today, though the pants were far too baggy and there was already three tears in the shirt.

"Who's that?" Allison asked.

"He's not a threat," Derek said.

"He has a knife," Allison pointed out.

"So do you," Derek replied.

Allison almost looked sheepish as she slipped her knife away again.

Lydia started gathering the things that had fallen out of her handbag when Ms. Blake had knocked it over to tie her up. Knowing from experience, Derek wisely stood back to let her pick it up by herself.

"So... uh, you know about werewolves?" Isaac asked nervously, glancing between Allison and Derek.

"I'm sure that what I know is skewed by bias and bigotry. I had the _pleasure_ of being put through my family's initiation rite; I'm not a fan," Allison muttered.

The wildling sniffed curiously, making his way forward into the classroom with as much caution as he had approached cooked vegetables. He frowned at Allison, moved so he was right in front of her, far too close for society's normal boundaries, and she froze with wide eyes.

"What's he doing?"

"Not sure. Don't make any sudden movements," Derek said.

"No shit," Allison muttered sarcastically.

Lydia finally found her compact mirror, wincing when she saw the bruises around her neck. In the background, she saw what was happening and turned quickly. "Hey! Get back! There's a thing called personal space!" she snapped, her voice hoarse.

The boy's eyes widened and he scampered back immediately.

"See, that's better. Good boy," Lydia murmured. "Discipline is a thing, Derek. You might want to read up on it."

"You're welcome for saving your life," Derek muttered.

"Thank you. Next time, try to get here _before_ I get strangled. I'm going to have a hard time explaining _this_ ," Lydia replied, gesturing to her bruised neck.

The wild boy made a wounded kind of sound, darted forward and pressed his hand to Lydia's neck. She looked torn between freezing and snapping at him again, but before she could make a decision, the boy moved back again.

"Why are you all staring at me?" Lydia muttered.

"Your neck. Lydia, there's no more bruising," Allison said, staring between her neck and the wild boy.

Lydia frowned and checked in her mirror. "What the hell?"

"Are you guys all right?" Scott asked, running into view, still in his lacrosse gear. "I heard howling, but Coach had us all jogging on the other side of the preserve. I got here as soon as I could."

"Great timing, Scott. I probably would've been dead if it'd been up to you to rescue me," Lydia muttered. "I think I've had enough attempts on my life made for one day, so I'm going home. Someone find out who the kid is so we can find out why and how he healed me. Ally, do you mind driving? I think we have a lot to talk about."

Allison nodded and left with Lydia a moment later. The wildling made a soft confused sound, but didn't leave.

"Uh, what are we going to do about Ms. Blake?" Isaac asked.

"That's Ms. Blake?" Scott asked, eyes wide.

"Both of you go. Go to the loft and take him with you," Derek said, nodding to the wildling. "I'll deal with this."

"Come on, we're going home now," Scott said cheerfully, trying to guide the boy towards the door.

The boy growled and moved away from Scott.

"I swear, he's worse than a five year old," Isaac muttered. "Come on, we've got candy at home. You like candy, remember?"

The boy didn't seem swayed by Isaac's bribe or falsetto.

"Fine, let him stay then. Just... get out of here before anyone else comes," Derek snapped, frustrated at the stubborn boy. "Look after Boyd, Erica, and Cora when you get to the loft, okay? Peter's gone off again," he added, sighing heavily.

Scott nodded and left with Isaac a step behind him.

"Come on then. If you're staying, you can help me with the body," Derek said, hoping he sounded authoritative, as Lydia had.

"No."

"Of course not," Derek groaned under his breath, struggling to lift the English teacher's mauled body in one piece.

The boy still didn't seem inclined to help, but he trailed after Derek, peering into rooms curiously as they headed down the corridor to the boiler room.

Ten minutes later, the Darach was burning away in the school's furnace, and Derek turned to find that the boy was gone. The noise of the room meant he couldn't focus on the wildling, and the scent of death and blood still overwhelmed his senses. He growled under his breath, hurrying out of the boiler room, only to almost slip over in a wet puddle in the school's corridor. It wasn't blood, thankfully, but Derek saw that the boy had found a janitor's bucket and tipped water along the trail of blood, humming under his breath as he worked to cover their tracks.

"Hey! What are you doing? Give that back!" the janitor called at the boy, stalking over with mop in hand.

Derek snarled protectively, running over to stand between them before he'd even registered that he'd moved. The janitor stopped short, blinking in surprise at Derek's sudden appearance, and Derek gave a quick cough and tried to make himself look as innocent as possible. He doubted it had worked very well. Behind him, he could hear the wildling's heart beating a mile a minute, and it felt like a Herculean task not to tear the janitor to shreds for terrifying his ... the wildling.

"Sorry. There was a juice spill. I asked him to clean it up; he must have had the wrong idea."

The janitor frowned, looking between Derek and the boy. "He's yours?"

"Cousin. From Mexico. He's not ... all there," Derek said; it wasn't a lie, technically.

"Ah, my neighbour's got a boy like that. I'll clean up the mess, all right? No need to worry," the janitor said to the boy, his words slow and over-enunciated.

The boy frowned, looking up to Derek, who tried to communicate silently with his facial expressions. Again, he doubted it worked. The janitor didn't seem too perturbed by the lack of response, thankfully.

"We'd better go. Sorry about the mess. There was a lot of juice. Blackcurrant, that's why it's so dark. I think he trailed it down the whole corridor," Derek said, guiding the boy towards the exit.

Derek didn't dare breathe until they were outside, and the boy tilted his head to the side as he watched Derek curiously.

"Come on, let's go home."

"Home," the boy said with a nod.

...

Stiles was curious and when he heard the roar the red-eyed wolf gave, he watched as the wolf shifted halfway back to a human monster, eyes still red, fangs and claws out. Stiles knew that something had happened, and he wanted to know what it was. He ran after the wolf as soon as he left, roars from the other half-wolves echoing behind him.

Derek didn't seem surprised that he was following, and with his eyes still red and his claws still elongated, Derek picked him up and kept running.

"Stay outside," he said as soon as they arrived at the school, running inside without waiting for an answer.

"No." Stiles was proud of himself for such a witty answer and followed after the wolf.

Stiles gripped his knife tightly, eyes wide as he saw the wolf tear apart a monster, blood staining his mouth and something slimy in his fanged hand. The red one was pale, and looked scared and upset and angry all at once. The curly one was pale as well, but there was another one with them. Fierce and strong, yet shaped like a monster.

Stiles frowned when he saw she had a knife as well, watching as she slipped it into a holster around her leg. When he no longer felt threatened or in danger, Stiles let his curiosity take over and moved to her. Such an _odd_ monster. She looked surprised and somewhat scared, even though she was still fierce and strong, but she didn't move to hurt him.

The red one snapped at him, words and tone angry, and Stiles moved back quickly. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, but the red one seemed calmer when he wasn't so close to the monster. Then she turned on the wolf, gesturing at her neck, bruised and red from the monster that had hurt her. Stiles could help, he knew he could. He moved fast, as fast as the wolves and monsters ever could, and pressed his hand to the red one's neck. It only took a second, a pure second of belief, but it was enough. He moved back to his spot, wanting to keep the red one happy and calm. She seemed surprised but otherwise fine, and Stiles lost interest in the conversation as the crooked one arrived, armed with a white stick. Stiles thought his knife was much better than a _stick_.

The red one and fierce monster left together, and the wolf and crooked one tried to make Stiles leave, but he was curious and wanted to explore more, and refused. The curly one left with the crooked one, and the wolf said something that didn't make a whole lot of sense, but he pointed to the dead monster and looked pointedly at Stiles. _No way_ was Stiles dealing with _that_ , dead or alive!

The wolf carried the monster through the school, and Stiles followed mostly because he could. He looked in the rooms, frowning at the rows of tables and pictures on walls and other things that were boring. From what he had seen so far, Stiles figured that the half-wolves came here often, but he didn't know how they could stand being confined so much. He'd leave if anyone tried to make him come here, Stiles decided.

The wolf went into another room and Stiles was bored enough to go exploring instead. The blood on the ground made his nose wrinkle; the wolf was silly to leave a trail that led right towards him. Stiles had taught his coyote friend how to hide tracks, he could do the same with the wolf. He found water, since leaves and branches were outside, and poured it over the blood, breaking up the trail.

He was so caught up in his task that he didn't realise he was being yelled at, and saw the monster a fraction too late. Stiles wanted to run, his heart beating hard in his chest, but then the wolf was there, standing between him and the monster. Stiles barely heard as the wolf and monster talked with each other, frowning as the monster seemed to address him, and he looked up at the wolf in confusion. The wolf stared back at him, issuing a challenge it seemed, and that just made Stiles even more confused.

The wolf led him outside, and as Stiles' heart calmed, he looked up at the wolf. The wolf had stood between him and a monster, had kept him _safe_ , and Stiles hadn't had anyone do that for him for a very long time. Even though he was a monster sometimes too, Stiles thought that maybe he was just _shaped_ like a monster instead of being one. The wolf was _not_ a monster, he realised.

"Come on, let's go home," the wolf said.

"Home," Stiles echoed. He liked that word.

...

Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, now that the Darach is dead, what are we planning on doing about the Alpha pack? Because, y'know, I'd like to not be kidnapped and tortured by a whole freaking pack of werewolves _again!_ " Cora snapped, utterly frustrated that nothing had been _done_ for so long.

"I'm working on a plan!" Derek replied.

"No, what you're doing is dealing with your little woodland creature. He's cute, sure, but put the kid back in the forest until this is all over, _then_ you can play Tarzan and Jane with him."

Derek glared at his younger sister. "You honestly think he'd survive against an Alpha pack on his own? For all that he can _sometimes_ do, he's still just a human, and he's been with us for a whole month. He smells like us, knows where we live, and that puts him in danger. You, Boyd, and Erica were barely able to survive the Alpha pack, what do you think they'd do to a human?"

Cora's jaw clenched tightly and she looked away.

Derek sighed heavily, knowing he'd fucked up, even though it was the truth. Over the past four weeks, he'd come to realise that he and Cora didn't exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things, nearly everything if he was being honest. Their arguments usually devolved into Spanish with Cora storming off and Derek feeling like he was losing his sister all over again.

"Look, I'm sorry, Cora. I'm trying. I just don't know what else to do," Derek admitted, the words soft and harder to say than anything he'd said before.

Cora finally looked back to him, and her expression softened a touch. "You have a pack of your own, Derek; maybe do what Mum used to do, and ask for their help. It doesn't make you weak, or a bad Alpha, to ask for help. That's what a pack is for: to make you stronger and to complement any skills or traits you might be missing."

Derek nodded firmly. "All right, I'll ask everyone tonight when we're here together." His serious expression slipped, and for a moment, he just looked _tired_. "I wish Laura were still here. She'd know exactly what to do, she'd tell me, then cuff me on the back of the head for not seeing it myself sooner."

As she listened to Derek talk about their older sister, Cora's emotions ranged from surprised to sad to angry, and then finally, she settled for aching and amused, and smirked at her brother. "I'm happy to cuff you on the back of the head in her place, if you'd like?"

Derek grinned. "You can do that if you can catch me, pup."

Cora darted forward, Derek moving back faster than she could see with his Alpha speed. Grinning, Cora shifted and tried again, Derek laughing softly as he dodged her again. She gave a soft howl to the others - Erica and Boyd still too jumpy to be around humans, especially prepubescent high schoolers - and grinned when they both arrived in the doorway a second later.

"Whoever catches Derek gets to smack him on the head for being a dork," Cora said, raising her eyebrows at them.

Erica and Boyd looked at each other; Boyd shrugged and Erica nodded.

"All right, we're in," she said, tying her hair back.

They both shifted and then ran into the room, directly at Derek. He just grinned, cracking his neck before he shifted too, eyes red and claws out.

"Come and get it. If you can," he taunted, the three betas running at him.

...

Stiles woke up to the sounds of growls and snarls. He blinked, frowning, but realised a second later that the noises weren't in pain or threatening. Clutching his knife anyway, he made his way out of his pillow and blanket nest, and followed the noises to their source.

The apartment building might have had individual apartments, but since Derek had bought it, most of the walls had been torn down. The top level was one full loft, bigger than most penthouse suites, and the floor below used to have six apartments, and now only had three separate apartments. Once the Alphas had been dealt with and his pack was safe, Derek planned on doing the same to all of the apartments within the building to end up with fifteen apartments and the loft. It would be big enough to house the pack, to give them each their own spaces if they wanted it, and still have room for more.

Stiles found the wolves fighting in one of the larger rooms downstairs. He tensed as claws and fangs found their mark, but all of the wounds healed almost instantly on the red-eyed wolf. Stiles knew that they were only play fighting, practicing the way he and the coyote had done sometimes, he with his knife and her with her teeth. He still had the scar on his forearm from where she'd bitten him a little too hard, but Stiles liked it; it was a reminder to himself, to make sure he _always_ kept his eye on his opponents.

One of the half-wolves gave a small howl, and Stiles was surprised to find himself stepping forward in response. He frowned down at his feet for moving without his permission, but then there was a low snarl, claws swiping, a brief howl of pain, and Stiles just _stopped_ thinking.

He ran forward, knife held firm in his hand, eyes darting at all four wolves before he leapt and rolled nimbly, stopping in a crouch before the golden-haired wolf. Stiles sliced at the red-eyed wolf, grinning broadly, because he _knew_ this game and he loved to play.

The red-eyed wolf stopped short in surprise and was almost barrelled over by the black wolf, barely moving back in time.

"It'll help with control. Don't stop now, he knows what he's doing, he knows it's just a game," Cora said through her fangs, standing to the side, chest heaving in exertion.

"Game, yes!" Stiles said, sounding excited.

Derek looked between his betas and the wildling, all four of them waiting for his response, and some part of him _knew_ this was a bad idea, but another part - the wolf part of him that was scratching at the surface and desperate to bring the wildling into his pack, consent or no - wanted so desperately to see exactly what the young man could do. Looking between them all once more, Derek finally nodded.

"All right. But control yourselves. Aim only for me. He's human, and if he gets hurt..."

"He may not heal if we hurt him, we get it, okay? But he's got scars, and he's obviously survived out in that forest for most of his life, so the kid can probably handle it," Erica pointed out.

Derek nodded. "I'll only use claws when you three are coming at me. Shifting so often should help me get used to the influx of power."

"It'll also exhaust you faster, switching back and forth like that. But hey, I'm all for whatever makes it easier for us," Cora said, grinning.

Stiles knew that they'd finally agreed to let him play, so he didn't know why the wolves were standing around _not playing_. He darted forward with his knife, giving the red-eyed wolf a small slice with the tip of his blade, just to remind him about the game they were meant to be playing. Stiles easily dodged the clawed hand that automatically followed, standing to the side where the three half-wolves were looking at him in surprise. With a laugh, and a bit of blood, the game began.

The brunette she-wolf that looked like the red-eyed wolf darted forward next with her claws, the red-eyed wolf turning at the last second to push her back. The golden-haired wolf threw herself forward next, the black one on her heels, and they were pushed back as well. All three attacked at once, and to the side, Stiles waited patiently, watching as the red-eyed wolf fought against them.

The red-eyed wolf listened in the same instant that he moved, his eyes flicking to the threat in the last second to ensure the blow would land. It was a good strategy, and obviously worked well, but it _could_ fail if he couldn't hear his opponent. Stiles could take advantage of that.

Stiles crouched low, watching the snarls and growls and claws, and believed that the red-eyed wolf wouldn't see or hear him. When the red-eyed wolf's focus was purely on the three half-wolves, Stiles moved around until he was at the red-eyed wolf's back. He waited for a moment, just until the three half-wolves had all been pushed back, then ran and leapt forward, wrapping himself around the red-eyed wolf, his knife pressed to his throat.

"Win!" Stiles cried out, grinning.

The red-eyed wolf went still immediately, and the three half-wolves stopped and stared.

"Did you... I didn't hear him at all," Boyd said, eyes wide as he stared between the wildling and Derek.

"Fuck that, I didn't even _see_ him. How did we not hear or see him?" Erica asked, pulse racing and not just from the adrenaline of the fight.

"Game?" Stiles asked, hoping to play again, and slid off the red-eyed wolf's back.

"No, we - " Derek began, shaking his head.

"Yes, we can. I'll watch him, _every_ move he makes. I want to see what he does," Cora said, looking a little pale as she stared at the wild creature.

Derek looked between his betas and the wildling and then finally nodded in agreement.

Stiles grinned and returned to his starting position with the three half-wolves. He knew he could win, and he liked this game.

The golden-haired wolf ran forward with a snarl, the black wolf trying to use her as a distraction to land his own blow. It almost worked, the black wolf's claws mere millimetres from the red-eyed wolf's body, and Stiles was impressed. Still, he crept forward and firmly believed that he couldn't be seen or heard. This time, while the red-eyed wolf was distracted by the two half-wolves, he wrapped his arms around the red-eyed wolf's legs, and pulled as hard as he could, rolling out of the way before the wolf could land on him. Stiles was sitting on the red-eyed wolf's chest before he could get up, knife pressed over his heart.

"Win."

Derek looked over to Cora, who was staring at them, mouth opened slightly as she tried to analyse just what she'd seen.

"He was there. I knew he was there, but I swear, I couldn't see or hear a thing. Like, like, he was an illusion or something. I... I need to see it again."

"I want to see, too," Erica said.

"Take turns," Boyd suggested, giving a slight nod to Derek.

"Good idea," Derek said, glad for Boyd's input because he was still trying to get over the fact that a human had somehow knocked him over.

"Okay. Cora, you and Boyd fight this one?" Erica asked.

"All right. Then Boyd can see too, and then... I don't know, we'll have to do something. He's not a werewolf, so I've got no idea how he's doing this."

"Even if he was a werewolf, he wouldn't be able to do this," Derek said, moving the wildling off his chest and standing up. "Other werewolves can only hide their scent, not their whole bodies like that."

Stiles scampered up, grinning as he stood next to the black wolf again. "Game?"

Derek nodded. Cora stepped in beside Boyd while Erica waited to the side.

Stiles was _good_ at this game. He held his knife loosely, waiting for the others to attack. The black wolf moved in, blocking the red-eyed wolf's arm and moving to claw at his stomach in return. The red-eyed wolf turned slightly, his body sideways to the black wolf, and pushed this oncoming clawed hand away firmly, using his grip on the other arm to spin the black wolf away towards the wall. While he was distracted, Stiles made his way around, going past the golden-haired wolf to the other side of the room. The black-haired wolf ran forward, dodging the red-eyed wolf's arm, and sliced at his chest. The blow landed, lines of blood healed a second later.

"Win," Cora said, grinning.

Stiles clapped for her and returned to the starting point.

"Just like you said. I knew he was there, but I couldn't see or hear him. Kind of like a mirage, you know, in the desert or something?" Erica said, frowning at the wildling.

"My turn," Boyd said. "Nice win, Cora."

"Yeah, it was good," Erica agreed as she stood beside Cora.

"Thanks," Cora said.

"Let's see if you can do it again," Derek said.

"I owe you a smack on the head, after all this," Cora reminded him.

Stiles was practically vibrating on the balls of his feet, impatient for the game to start again. The wolves talked too much. He ran forward himself this time, knife jumping from his left hand and into his right, trying to get at the red-eyed wolf. The wolf moved at the very last second, Stiles skidding past on the wooden floor. The black-haired wolf ran forward once Stiles missed his mark, the golden-haired one joining her to fight. Stiles crept up slowly, eyes on the red-eyed wolf as he believed to be soundless and unseen. He jumped at the wolf, but found himself flying into nothing. The red-eyed wolf had moved away, and was now facing him, but he was also frowning.

Stiles waved his knife in front of the wolf experimentally, but he didn't move forward. Certain that the wolf couldn't see or hear him, Stiles wondered what he had missed. He watched for a moment, taking in the tense set of the wolf's shoulders, the clench of his hands, his legs widened in their stance, his eyes and ears trying to find him futilely. Then he saw the wolf's nose flare slightly, and felt so stupid. Wolves could smell better than he could, of course!

"Damn, I've lost his scent," Derek growled.

"Can't see or hear him, either," Boyd added.

"So... We have an opponent who can't be seen, heard, **or** smelled, and he's armed with a knife?" Cora muttered.

"He's only going to go for me," Derek pointed out. "Come on, keep playing. He'll show himself when someone's won."

"Well, we'd better win sooner rather than later," Erica said, smirking as she rushed forward.

Stiles barely dodged the golden-haired wolf - _why had the wolves stopped to talk_ **again _?_** \- and laughed as the red-eyed wolf was almost caught by her attack.

The red-eyed wolf fought the other three half-wolves, making sure that his claws were retracted each time he landed a blow. The game wasn't to make them bleed, but for them to make him bleed, and it would be good for proper fights. Stiles wondered if they had to fight off racoons and squirrels to eat, too. Apart from the wolves, he hasn't seen any other animals in the rooms or when they went to that enclosure for the half-wolves during the day. Yet somehow, they still have food. The golden-haired wolf landed a blow, startling Stiles out of his thoughts. He had been so distracted by his own head that he hadn't paid attention, and had no idea how the half-wolf had done it. He muttered at himself, not at all happy; he'd taught himself better than that!

_Distractions meant death._

...

"Win," Erica said, grinning as she pulled her claws out of Derek's abdomen and wiped her bloody hands on his shirt.

"That was close, nice one," Cora said, sweating as she stood up and went to stand beside Boyd.

"Where is he?" Boyd asked, looking around the room.

Derek finished healing - Erica's claws were _sharp_ \- and looked around as well. The wildling was nowhere to be seen. "Find him!"

"How? He's practically invisible," Cora pointed out.

"I've got an idea. Wait here," Erica said, rushing out of the apartment and up to the loft.

"Close the door. We'll at least see if he tries to go out that way," Derek muttered, trying to sniff and listen and see, even though he knew it was useless.

Cora ran forward and closed the door firmly, standing guard in front of it.

"Boyd, you head that way, I'll go this way. See if we can find anything."

"He might've already left," Boyd pointed out, but headed in the direction Derek had indicated.

"I don't think so; he was enjoying the game too much to leave in the middle of it," Cora replied.

"Yeah, well, where is he now?"

Erica returned a few seconds later with some bags under her arms. "Hey, Alpha, catch."

Derek turned to catch the bag before it smacked him in the head. "Flour?"

"Like in that TV show, just throw flour around until you see the kid's shape underneath it."

Derek had no idea what TV show she was talking about, but figured it was better than nothing. "If this doesn't work, you're cleaning the mess."

"Sure thing. I've got another bag of flour. Boyd, you've got the sugar," Erica said with a quick wink and grin.

Boyd smiled back at her briefly, caught the large bag of sugar, and tore a corner open with his claws. He shook the bag until a trail of sugar started to pour out. Derek did the same with the flour, and they started covering the apartment floor to find the wildling.

Derek tried to stay calm, but he felt anxious and he knew that his heart was pounding away a mile a minute in his chest. Still, the others didn't comment, and from their own scents, he could tell that they were worried as well. Even Cora was worried, which was surprising considering how she didn't trust the wildling.

Each passing minute felt like an hour, and still, they couldn't find the wildling. Most of the apartment floor was covered in white, like a drug bust gone wrong. The apartment door opened, and they looked over to see the rest of the pack in the doorway.

"If you were planning on making a cake, I think you need to check your recipe," Lydia said, eyes wide as she saw the apartment floor.

"What's going on?" Scott asked, making his way inside with the others following.

Cora shut the door behind them quickly, Isaac frowning at her action.

"We were playing a game with the wildling. He can... I don't know, turn invisible or something, and now we can't find him," Erica said.

"Can't smell or hear him, either," Boyd added.

"Is he armed?"

"When is he _not_ armed?" Cora replied pointedly.

"I've got no idea what you're talking about. He's right there," Lydia said, shaking her head and making her way over to one of the few non-covered areas of the apartment.

"There's nothing there, Lydia," Scott said, frowning.

Lydia looked down at the trembling wildling, then to her pack. They were all frowning at her in confusion and it was obvious that they couldn't see what she could.

"Looks like I'm immune to whatever he's doing, then. Great, another thing to add to the list," she muttered. "Hey, sweetie. Come on, look at me. There you go. Can you stop being invisible or whatever it is that you're doing?" Lydia asked hopefully.

"What do we do if he doesn't turn back?" Isaac asked.

"No idea. We can't exactly take him to a hospital. Not even Mrs. McCall will be able to deal with an _invisible_ kid with a limited ability to talk."

"Not helping, Erica. Someone get over here to carry him. Put him back in his pillow thing upstairs. It might help calm him down; he's shaking like a leaf."

"Bring it down here instead. He might not agree with being picked up right now," Cora said.

Before anyone could do anything, Derek ran out of the apartment and up to the loft. He returned with the wildling's nest and set it down carefully beside Lydia. She barely acknowledged him, her eyes still on the wildling.

"Hey, here we go. We've got your nest thing, see?" Lydia murmured, holding one of the pillows out to him.

The pillow was snatched out of her hands a moment later, disappearing entirely. Then, they all heard a scrambling sound of feet on wood, and the wildling appeared to the others, settled down in his nest with the pillow clutched to his chest. He was still holding the knife tightly, but had his eyes clenched shut and seemed to be muttering to himself. The words were too low and jumbled - Derek was pretty certain that they weren't even in English - to be understood.

"Let's head upstairs. This can be cleaned later," Derek added when they looked to the mess around them.

They all started to head out of the apartment as Derek carefully moved forward to carry the wildling and his nest upstairs. The wildling didn't attack, which was as worrying as it was a relief. The whimper the wildling gave broke his heart, and Derek tucked him in close to his chest, holding him that little bit tighter.

"How'd you know he wouldn't want to be touched?" Scott asked Cora curiously as they headed up to the loft.

"Because I wouldn't let anyone near me for three months after the fire," Cora replied briefly.

"Oh. Sorry."

"I'm a big girl, Scott, you don't need to apologise," Cora said, rolling her eyes at him.

"Right, sorry. I mean... I'm not sorry?" Scott said, confused and hoping she wouldn't take his head off with her claws.

Cora just rolled her eyes at him again.

...

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Morning brought a new set of problems. Approximately ten thousand of them, Derek surmised, taking in the sight of his previously-white apartment floor that was now completely black with a writhing scurrying mess of ants.

"How do ants even get into an apartment on the eighth floor anyway?" Isaac asked curiously, looking over Derek's shoulder.

"Determination," Erica replied, grinning.

"Isaac, go get the hose. Erica, boil the kettle."

"Ah yes, murdering every last one of these fuckers will teach ants everywhere not to mess with us!" Isaac said, cackling as he left the apartment.

"I turned you; I can turn you back," Derek called after them.

"No, you can't!" Erica called over her shoulder with a laugh.

Derek groaned and contemplated smacking his head on the wall. He heard a small gasp behind him and turned to see the wildling standing there. Derek hadn't heard him approaching, and he almost let out a growl at the realisation, at being _vulnerable_ in a human's presence, because of aforementioned human. There was some part of Derek that doubted the wildling even _was_ human because no one should be able to sneak up on an Alpha like that.

The wildling, having no idea of Derek's concerns and internal monologue, was looking into the apartment curiously, his upturned nose wrinkling when he saw the ants that had converged on the sugar. Then Erica and Isaac returned with the kettle and hose respectively, and the young boy turned to watch them with another curious look.

Derek took one end of the hose from Isaac and moved as fast as possible through the apartment to the kitchen so he could connect the hose.

"I'm turning on the tap; point it at the ants and not at anyone else," Derek added.

"Yes, Alpha," Isaac replied, sounding disappointed.

Derek turned the tap a few times, listening to the rush of water, watching as the hose filled and expanded, the green length straightening with the water's pressure. Isaac let out a whooping yell as he sprayed the ants and half of the apartment along with it. Derek was glad the apartment was empty, because there was no way he wanted to deal with a mess like this _and_ a tenant.

"They should start running back towards a nest; Erica, keep an eye on the ant trail and pour the water when you find the nest. The last thing I need is an ant invasion."

"Isn't there a movie from the 50s about giant ants invading?" Isaac asked, grinning.

"Concentrate on the hose, Isaac," Derek called back, turning the tap again.

Isaac yelped as the hose jerked out of his limp grasp, the cold blast hitting Erica square on and making her scream out in surprise. Derek turned the tap down again and looked out of the kitchen to see the hose flailing about wildly, and Isaac and Erica growling at each other, the kettle set aside and presumably forgotten.

Before he could snap at either of them, the wildling jumped from the doorway to land directly on top of the hose, squishing the rubber length under his bare feet and looking up with a proud smile. Then, his smile turned to a wicked one, and in a flash, he'd picked up the hose and aimed it at the two werewolves who were still snarling and distracted at each other, spraying them both with freezing cold water. Erica and Isaac stopped snarling in pure and utter surprise. Derek, who'd been curious as to what the wildling would do, started laughing so hard he could barely hear the shrieks from his betas when the hose's pressure increased without a single turn of the tap.

Cora and Boyd were standing at the apartment door in a second, both staring at the scene before them. The wildling was attacking Isaac and Erica with a hose, and Derek was off to the side, doubled over in laughter. Cora glanced at Boyd, who shrugged back at her, then she grinned and dove into the apartment to help the wildling attack Isaac and Erica, kicking at the puddles of water that were forming underfoot. Boyd spied the kettle nearby, and avoiding the others, made his way over to it. The kettle was still hot, so he didn't dare tip it on anyone, werewolf healing or not. Taking the kettle back up to the loft, Boyd made cups of tea for everyone, found an assortment of towels, and waited for them to come back.

He didn't have to wait long and then three wet werewolves, one wet wildling, and one bright-eyed and cheek-flushed Alpha trudged into the loft. Boyd nodded to the mugs of tea and the towels. Isaac threw Erica's towel at her head, Cora laughed as she dried the wildling's hair, the wildling yelping and making odd noises from underneath the fluffy towel, and Derek sat beside Boyd with a towel wrapped around his shoulders.

"Thanks, Boyd."

"You're welcome, Alpha," he replied, giving a brief nod, a feeling of warmth flowing through him that had nothing to do with his tea.

...

"We found him!" Scott called as he walked into the loft that afternoon.

Lydia glared at him. "I think you mean _I_ found him! There was no team effort involved when you spent three hours drooling over Allison instead of helping me!"

Scott flushed bright red and withered under Lydia's gaze. "Like I said: Lydia found him."

"Found who?" Erica asked curiously, head tilted to the side as she surveyed them from the lounge room.

"The wildling. Remember, Derek said we had to find out who he is?"

"I don't remember a whole lot from that first week, actually, so no," Erica replied pointedly, but she stood up off the lounge and walked to them anyway. "So, who's the kid?"

"Well, first, he's not a kid. He's older than you, by about three months," Lydia said, setting out the folder with various newspaper clippings and photocopies on the kitchen bench.

The rest of the pack made their way out slowly, all curious about the wildling that was currently sleeping in his nest in the far corner of the lounge room.

Lydia picked up the topmost newspaper article and started to read aloud. "On Saturday evening, a car crash claimed the lives of five people. The newly appointed Sheriff John Stilinski, whose wife died last month, was driving the car and his six-year old son - I can't read that, it's way too smudged - _something_ Stilinski was sitting in the front seat. The other vehicle was driven by Mrs. Helen Tate, with her two daughters Rebecca and Malia in the back seat. The Sheriff's blood alcohol level was far above normal, and there were tyre marks leading from the Tate's vehicle, far before the site of the accident. What caused the Tate's to drive over on to the wrong side of the road is currently unknown, but the tyre marks from the Sheriff's vehicle show that he did try to avoid the collision. Both cars were burnt beyond recognition, but dental records show that none of the passengers survived," Lydia trailed off, stopping reading when she realised that the others were all staring at her. "What? What's wrong?"

"I remember the Stilinski-Tate car crash," Scott admitted, shaking his head as though to clear foggy memories. "I remember that Mum was so upset about it 'cause that Sheriff was the one who helped her get out of the abusive relationship with my dad. She spent _days_ crying about him and his kid," Scott said, shaking his head.

"Come on, how do we even know it's the same kid? I mean, yeah, he _looks_ like he's been stuck out in the forest for 10 odd years, but what if it's just a huge coincidence?" Cora pointed out.

Lydia turned the newspaper article around for her to see the family photos provided of the car crash's victims. The Sheriff, Mrs. Stilinski, and their son were pictured in one, and Mr. and Mrs. Tate with their two daughters in the other.

"Yeah, okay, the moles are a dead giveaway," Cora conceded with a shrug.

"Let me see," Derek said. "Please," he added reluctantly when Lydia raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

She handed the clipping over to him and Derek stepped back as the others talked and reminisced over the Stilinski-Tate car crash. Isaac and Erica talked about how they thought they kind of remembered the Stilinski kid from when they were younger. Vaguely, he heard them talk about how the kid hadn't been around much with his being treated for ADHD and the tablets making him sick, and then with his mother being sick (no one could remember what exactly she was sick with and none of the articles mentioned it), he'd basically missed a third of their school-year completely before the crash had happened.

Derek looked at the photo, the small child looking just like the wildling, and yet, not at all. The features were there, the high cheekbones, the upturned nose, the moles scattering along his cheek and jawline, but in the photograph he looked so innocent and happy. The child in the photo had no idea of the life that lay before him, of the things he would have to do to survive, of what he would become.

Glancing over the article, Derek frowned when he recognised a name that was neither Tate nor Stilinski.

"Scott, isn't your boss named Deaton?" he asked, interrupting the conversation about a butterfly and a panicking teacher.

Apparently, the young wildling had run after a butterfly during recess break, and to the teacher's dismay and horror, he couldn't be found again until lunch when he came wandering back with a small army of butterflies following him. The teacher had quit and left town that very evening, Isaac said solemnly. Despite his almost-perfect recollection of the childhood memory, neither he nor Lydia could remember the child's name. That in itself worried Derek, because Lydia didn't forget _anything._

"Uh, yeah. Alan Deaton; why?" Scott asked, confused.

"Because he was the one that discovered the crash site. He might have more information about what happened, or at least remember the wildling's name."

"Pray, do tell, exactly _how_ you're going to bring this up in conversation, Alpha of ours?" Lydia asked, voice sweet and poisonous at the same time.

"I'll think of something," Derek muttered.

"Can you give me a ride to the vet clinic while you're thinking? I left my bike at home, and I have to be at work in half an hour," Scott said, a little sheepishly.

"I want to see how this pans out," Cora said, and beside her, Lydia smirked and agreed.

So did Erica, and then Boyd, and eventually, Derek's whole pack decided to come to see how he would ask the veterinarian about the wildling.

"Someone has to stay here to look after him," Derek said, glancing over to where the wildling was still resting.

"Don't you think it'll be better to have a visual reminder for Dr. Deaton?" Erica suggested. "The picture's a little grainy, and he's older now; the good Doctor might be better with the actual, real-life person in front of him."

Derek sighed; she was probably right. "Fine. But you're waking him up."

Erica groaned. "I only _just_ healed after last time!"

"I'll do it," Boyd said, leaving before the others could say anything.

He returned in a few minutes with the wildling on his back, not a hint of blood or a wound in sight. Boyd shifted uncomfortably when he saw they were all staring at him, and on his back, the wildling growled at the tension. "What?"

"Dude, how'd you do that?" Isaac asked, eyes wide.

"I know how to deal with kids. He might be our age - or older - but he's still a kid," Boyd said with a gentle shrug, not enough to dislodge his passenger.

"Let's hope you can work your magic to get him in the car," Lydia muttered, heading out of the loft.

The others followed after her and Derek ensured that the loft would be secure while they were gone before following as well. He winced on hearing the drip-drip-drip that was working its way through the apartment, though he was glad it wasn't full of ants anymore. Hopefully the wooden floorboards would dry out with the warmer weather.

"Fuck!" the wildling exclaimed when he realised they were heading to the cars.

"Great; you had to go and teach him _that_. I hate all of you," Lydia groaned.

"Which one of you taught him how to swear?" Derek growled at his pack.

Three hands were raised guiltily, then they looked at each other in confusion.

"I accidentally sliced my hand open and swore in front of him," Isaac confessed.

"I broke my toe after stubbing it on the staircase," Scott added.

"I was just swearing for the hell of it," Cora said, shrugging.

Derek looked up to the sky briefly, wondering just how on _earth_ **this** was his pack.

" _Fuck! No!_ " the wildling cried, trying to get off Boyd's back unsuccessfully.

"Boyd, can you run to the vet clinic?" Derek asked, receiving a nod in return. "Good, go, we'll meet you there."

Boyd hefted the wildling a little and ran past the car, the wildling sagging against him in relief. Derek watched for a moment to make sure they were safe.

"I call shotgun," Erica said, slipping into the Camaro's front seat before anyone else could say anything.

"No fair; you rode shotgun last time!" Isaac complained.

Erica smirked at Isaac and poked her tongue out at him. Lydia and Derek both rolled their eyes. Cora shook her head and got in the back seat, pulling Scott in with her. Isaac hurried around to get in on Scott's other side, no longer so concerned with arguing with Erica.

"I'll drive myself there. Actually, I might stop by my house first to pick up some reading material for the wildling. If he's ever going to be rehabilitated, we have to start with better words than 'fuck'," Lydia muttered.

Erica cackled her laughter from the front seat. "I think that's a perfectly good word!"

"I'm ignoring you," Lydia replied, though her eyebrow was raised and tone light. "See you all at the clinic."

Derek slid into the driver's seat and turned on his ignition. He waited a moment for Lydia to leave first, to make sure his pack member would be all right (not that he'd admit that to _her_ ), then drove off towards the veterinary clinic on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

...

Stiles liked running. Well, he liked being carried by the black half-wolf while _he_ ran, but that was absolutely the same thing. When they stopped, the half-wolf set him down, but kept a hand on his shoulder to stop Stiles from wandering and exploring like he wanted to. They were standing in front of a building, but the noises he could hear were from animals, not monsters. Stiles was tempted to slip away from the black half-wolf, knowing he could do exactly that whenever he wanted, but he decided not to waste his energy.

They stood in silence, the animal noises piercing the air around them, and Stiles concentrated on his breathing to stay still. He pretended that there was a monster right next to him and he had to be completely still and silent, or it would get him.

Stiles opened his eyes a few breaths later to see the red-eyed wolf's car coming down the road and turning into the parking space beside them. The red-eyed wolf was out of the car before the others, and Stiles watched as the curly one, blonde one, brunette one, and crooked jawed one all got out of the car a moment later, arguing about something.

The red-eyed wolf stood in front of Stiles, nostrils flaring slightly, and Stiles stared back at him in confusion. The crooked jawed one walked straight past them to go into the building, which Stiles thought was stupid. The red-eyed wolf was supposed to go in first to make sure his pack wouldn't be hurt. The bears that lived in the forest did the same all the time; waiting for the mother bear to lead them and keep them safe.

Stiles let out a soft growl at the crooked one, grabbing the back of his shirt to pull him back out of the building. He ignored the words the half-wolf was saying, and waited impatiently for the red-eyed wolf to go inside first. The red-eyed wolf seemed surprised at his action, but he gave a slight nod and went into the building. Only when he was inside did Stiles let go of the crooked one, who muttered things under his breath - like Stiles' new word 'fuck' - before adjusting his shirt and following the red-eyed wolf.

The black half-wolf opened the door and indicated for Stiles to go ahead of him. He only did so out of curiosity, and because he could hear the animals much more clearly when the door was open. Stiles went into the building, and was surprised to see the red-eyed wolf with claws and fangs and red eyes. The crooked one looked worried, and the monster on the other side of the wooden counter simply looked amused.

Stiles wondered if there was a threat and stayed where he was, effectively blocking the entrance for the others. Behind him, the brunette one snarled and threatened him, but he ignored her and waited, watching until the red-eyed wolf stopped feeling threatened. The monster looked over at him then, and his eyes widened. He ignored the red-eyed wolf, lifted part of the counter, and walked straight over to him instead. Stiles' hands curled in on themselves tightly, nails digging into his skin, and he fought the urge to run. The monster was close, far too close, for his liking. Before the monster could get any closer, the brunette half-wolf pushed into the building and stood between him and the monster, snapping at the monster in a growling voice.

Slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, Stiles forced himself to unclench his hands. He could usually get past the flight or fight instinct without too much trouble, but he hadn't expected a monster to come at him quite so suddenly like that. He stood there, taking in deep breaths, and willing himself to stop trembling.

...

"Hey! Back down; you're freaking him out!" Cora snapped, shoving past the wildling.

Deaton stopped abruptly and took a step back. "That was not my intention."

"Yeah, well **he** doesn't know that. He sees humans as a threat, and you're practically charging at him! Jesus."

"I thought..." Deaton paused for a moment, glancing over Cora's shoulder to the wildling once more. "I thought he might recognise me."

"How do you know him?" Derek growled, still not trusting of a _veterinarian_ that had a counter made of rowan.

Deaton glanced from the Alpha to his pack and then back to the wildling. "I think this would be better discussed where we can all be seated comfortably. Follow me to the back area.

"Scott, close the door once everyone's inside, please," Deaton added, not wanting to be interrupted.

Scott looked between his employer and his Alpha, torn. Jaw clenched, Derek gave a nod, and Scott breathed a soft sigh of relief, waiting for the others to file in.

"Lydia should be here soon; wait to make sure she gets inside too."

"You'll wait, won't you?" Scott asked eagerly.

Derek nodded, squeezing Scott's shoulder briefly. "We'll wait," he promised, then followed after Deaton with the wildling and the rest of his pack following.

Relieved, Scott waited impatiently for Lydia to arrive.

 

...

Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles was bored. The monster talked _all the time_ , and every so often between words or questions, the monster kept looking at him expectantly. He waited until the monster's attention turned back to the others once more, and then slipped away, knowing that his absence wouldn't be noticed immediately. He followed the noise of the animals down the small hallway and went into a room filled with cages, small puppies and kittens barking and meowing excitedly at his presence. Stiles grinned at the welcome.

He inspected the closest cage and the latch that held the door closed. Stiles reached out and with a brief moment of concentration, every single latch on the cages clicked open. The puppies clambered out of their bottom rows and kittens jumped out of the higher ones. Stiles didn't hesitate for a moment, sitting on the floor and petting every tiny creature that clambered over him. Despite being inside for such a long time, the animals still recognised him as a creature of the forest, could smell the wind and trees etched into his very being.

One of the puppies growled, teeth bared, and Stiles growled back at it playfully. The puppy leapt, a small jump for a tiny creature, but landed against Stiles' thigh, and he scooped up the puppy to look at it face to face. No longer growling, the puppy panted happily, tongue lolling out. Stiles grinned at her and held his fingers out for the puppy to sniff. She sniffed, licking at his fingertips delicately, and then promptly bit down. Stiles growled at her and she let go after a moment, licking at his fingers again.

While he'd been caught up with the puppy, a kitten was climbing his arm in determination, claws pricking against his skin until it reached the desired destination of Stiles' shoulder. He glanced at the kitten, made a soft noise in question, and the kitten responded by rubbing up against his cheek with a purr. Stiles grinned and returned the motion.

Stiles was still covered in puppies and kittens when the others found him some time later. The red-eyed wolf looked down at Stiles in a mix of surprise and relief, and Stiles belatedly realised that his heartbeat and scent must have been covered by the animals. The other half-wolves arrived a moment later, looking as relieved as the red-eyed wolf did. Seeing that they were all there, Stiles returned his attention to the animals clambering over him.

...

"Oh, look at these cuties! Can we keep them?" Erica asked, eyes wide.

Isaac's eyes went wide and he nodded eagerly beside her, looking at Derek hopefully.

"We're not taking thirty puppies and kittens home," Derek replied.

"That doesn't mean we're not taking at least _one_ , right?" Isaac asked quickly.

Derek looked to Lydia and Boyd, hoping they'd be sensible or at the very least _helpful_ , but they were both looking at the animals clambering over the wildling. Scott was obviously going to be no help, considering he spent most of his free time working with animals, and would probably side with Isaac anyway.

Derek looked into the room where the wildling was making soft noises, somehow communicating with the puppy and kitten sitting on his shoulders, the other animals all crowding around and on top of his body. The wildling seemed more at peace now than he had in the last month, and it made him wonder yet again if he was really keeping the wildling for the young man's benefit or his own. His wolf still ached to have the wildling in their pack, to keep him close and safe, but the rational part of Derek thought that maybe it would be best for the wildling to stay in the forest instead. The Alpha pack hadn't made a move since he'd killed Deucalion, so perhaps the wildling would be safe after all.

Deaton arrived, armed with several thick tomes, and Derek stepped aside so he could see into the room. Deaton - actually a Druid, not _just_ a veterinarian - didn't seemed surprised, but he did look at all of the open cages thoughtfully.

Deaton had told them what he knew about the night of the crash, and honestly, it wasn't much more than the article had provided. He had been driving back to Beacon Hills after spending three days helping a local farmer deliver several foals and calves, and had seen the smoke and fire up ahead. He'd thought it to be a forest fire, but had come upon the Stilinski and Tate cars ploughed into each other, a mess of metal and fire, and not much else. Deaton had pulled over to try to help, to see if there were survivors, and to call the fire station and the police. While he was on the phone, he _thought_ he'd seen a young boy running into the forest, but when he looked properly, there hadn't been anyone there. He heard a coyote howl, but then the police officers and fire fighters had arrived, and he'd been required to give statements. He had spoken to Deputy Tara Graeme, who seemed to be in shock more than he had been; apparently, the Sheriff had been a close friend, and she'd just spoken to him that morning.

Sheriff Graeme was a good woman, and Derek decided that if the former Sheriff had been her friend, she'd definitely know the wildling's name. Perhaps she'd be willing to talk to him, though he had no idea what excuse he could come up with to mention the Stilinski boy without raising her suspicions.

Then Deaton had gone on to explain that he was a Druid, and had been the emissary for the Hale pack when Talia had been alive. Derek had needed to sit down at the mention of his mother, the reminder of what had happened to his family, and only vaguely heard the rest of the Druid-emissary-veterinarian's story. Cora had stood by him, clutching his hand firmly, and though he could feel the support in her grip, he could tell that she was _angry-hurt-afraid_ as well. He tried to give back as much support as he could, and slowly, they'd both relaxed once more.

Eventually, Derek had realised that the wildling was no longer in the room and they'd all left to find him. Though, if Deaton was returning with books, Derek had to wonder if the Druid had even attempted to look for the wildling at all.

"Perhaps we should take this into an examination room. Scott, can you put the animals back in their cages?" Deaton said, gathering the books under his arm once more and moving into the room carefully.

Even with Deaton blocking his view, Derek could tell that the wildling wasn't happy about the Druid's presence. All of the animals stopped their noise abruptly; Derek looked over Deaton's shoulder to see a kitten and puppy sitting on the wildling's tense shoulders, both growling and teeth bared as fiercely as tiny animals could. The wildling soothed both with soft noises, and stood up slowly, the other animals moving off him with noisy protests. The two sitting on his shoulders remained there, guarding him, perhaps. _Or maybe the wildling was guarding them?_ Derek honestly had no idea.

He did, however, know that the wildling didn't feel safe with the Druid, because he was clutching his knife firmly. The others knew it too, and Scott hesitated for a moment, looking between his employer and the wildling before he stepped into the room to do as he'd been told.

Derek felt the others breathe a sigh of relief when the wildling didn't attack Deaton, but he suspected their feelings of relief were much too soon. The Druid still wanted to test the wildling, and who knew what would happen in that ordeal? Derek followed Scott's slow and cautious movements into the room and stood beside the wildling.

"Go to the examination room, we'll follow," Derek said to the Druid.

Deaton nodded in return, looking at the wildling one more time before he turned and left.

Beside him, the wildling relaxed, and the two animals resumed their previous activities of scenting the wildling; the kitten rubbing against his neck, and the puppy licking at his clavicle.

"Help Scott put the animals away while Deaton tests the wildling," Derek said.

"You mean, adopt all of the animals while Deaton tests the wildling, right?" Isaac asked brightly, Erica snorting a laugh beside him.

"Oh god, all of you come with me instead. Scott, you're not going to try to adopt them, are you?" Derek asked with a brief frown.

Scott shook his head. "I'm not allowed to; it's my mum's condition for me working here."

"Smart woman," Lydia muttered, and Derek nodded in agreement.

"All right, all of you follow Deaton," Derek said, voice firm.

He watched his pack file out, making sure they didn't try to sneak any animals with them, Scott remaining behind to put the last of the puppies and kittens away.

"Uh, Derek? I think I have to put those two away as well," Scott said, nodding to the two animals still sitting on the wildling's shoulders.

"They've been scenting him for the last fifteen minutes, Scott; I don't think they'll let you take them away from the wildling any more than he would."

"Scenting?"

Derek blinked at the question more than Scott's confused expression. "You don't know what scenting is?"

"Uh. No?"

"They're putting their scent on him to mark him as theirs, and he's been doing the same back to them. Pack members usually do it to identify which pack they belong to."

"Oh." Scott looked between the wildling and two animals for a moment, then back to Derek. "So if pack members do it, why don't you do it to us?"

Derek opened and closed his mouth for a moment, unsure how to respond to that.

"Are you three coming? Testing is boring without the subject to test on," Lydia pointed out, leaving again without waiting for a reply.

Scott pushed past Derek and left after Lydia. The wildling stopped scenting and patting the kitten and puppy, and looked up at him in confusion. Derek nodded towards the door.

"Deaton wants to see what you are. Will you let him?" Derek asked, not exactly expecting any understanding, nor an answer.

The wildling tilted his head briefly, then lifted the puppy and kitten off his shoulders carefully, and placed them in Derek's hands.

...

Giving the puppy and kitten to the red-eyed wolf seemed to be the best response. He no longer seemed so sad and lost when he had creatures to look after. Stiles just hoped he knew he wasn't giving them forever; the puppy and kitten were his now, just as he was theirs. He followed the red-eyed wolf through the building to where the half-wolves and monster were waiting.

The red-eyed wolf gathered the puppy and kitten into one arm and then put his free hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles looked at the red-eyed wolf, then to the table that the others were standing around, and realised they were waiting for him. He didn't know what would happen once he was on that table, but Stiles didn't think it would be good.

"No! Fuck no!" he protested.

"Ah, I see he's able to talk," Deaton murmured, raising an amused eyebrow at Derek.

"We're working on it," Lydia snapped, glaring. "If you're not going to test him to find out what he is, then we'll just leave."

"Of course," he conceded with another amused expression. "Come now, I won't hurt you," he said, looking to the wildling.

The monster's soft voice was different to the voice he had used before when talking, talking, talking. That voice had been firm, directed to the others, and easily ignored. This voice, however, was soft and lilting, like the wind against leaves, and not as easy for Stiles to ignore. He knew then that the monster was old, much older than any of the wolves realised, and if the monster spoke like the wind in the trees, then he and Stiles might not be so different after all. Stiles could speak with the voice of the forest, the trees and the sun and the rain, the dirt under his feet, the clouds as air whirled through the sky. He was not as old as the monster, but one day, he would be even older, he knew it.

The soft voice continued, a monster's words on the outside and the wind against leaves on the inside, but only for those who could hear. That sound on the inside was what drew him in close, and Stiles soon found himself seated on the table. The inside sound faded to a stop, and the outside voice continued. Stiles blinked, not understanding the outside one, and instead of trying to answer with his remembered/new-found words, he answered with his own inside voice instead.

...

Around them, Derek and his pack had no idea what was happening. All they could see was the Druid talking to the wildling, coaxing him towards the table with soft and calm reassurances. It was a slow process, but the wildling moved forward as if pulled by an invisible string, and eventually sat on the table. Derek watched as Deaton asked the young man a question, the words receiving a blink of confusion. Then the wildling looked at Deaton, a noise filling the room that made the Druid fall back, eyes wide and his expression featuring something _other_ than cool, reserved amusement. Fear.

" _Fuck._ "

No one had a chance to respond to Deaton's whispered exclamation, as the Druid left the room as fast as possible.

"Wh-what just happened?" Isaac asked, looking between the door where Deaton had left and where the wildling still sat calmly, then to Derek.

Derek had no idea, and honestly, he had no idea if Deaton would even be coming back. Scott looked a little confused, Lydia looked curious, Boyd's eyes never left the wildling, Cora looked wary, and Erica looked as confused as Isaac looked and Derek felt. The wildling simply waited, and in Derek's arms, the kitten and puppy had fallen asleep.

After a few minutes, they all heard Deaton returning, bringing even more books than before, and several wooden containers piled on top. No one offered to help, Deaton didn't ask, and soon, all of the books and containers were sitting beside the wildling.

"I thought basic training would help, but it's only made him stronger. I haven't... There hasn't been anyone with this kind of strength in... in years," Deaton muttered, half to himself, half to the others around him.

"Strength?" Derek echoed, looking to the wildling with a frown. Sure, he might've lived in the forest on his own for 10 years, but he didn't look strong.

"Strength of mind, strength of power, both are just as - if not more - important than strength of body, Alpha Hale," Deaton said, voice just a little cool and judgemental.

Derek gave an abashed nod.

"At this point, I'd prefer strength of vocabulary so maybe _someone_ could tell us what's going on," Lydia pointed out, defending her Alpha as only she could.

"The Stilinski boy has more power than I ever dreamed he could have. I've seen him in the forest before when I've been foraging for herbs and plants. It was rare, mostly brief glimpses, but I could recognise the boy's power. Of course, I thought that most of it was coming from the forest around us, not _him_. He... he practically _is_ the forest, I just... I never sensed it before because I always assumed. I thought I'd be able to help him control what little power he did have with small lessons; the knife he has was actually left by me. It's a ceremonial blade, though I suspect it's become far more practical than ceremonial throughout his life in the preserve."

"How could you teach him control when you only saw glimpses of him?" Boyd asked, one of the first things he'd said since their arrival.

"Dreams, mostly. It was difficult, since his mind is compartmentalised, but some things did filter through."

"How do you know that?" Cora asked; Derek could tell that she didn't trust the Druid at all, and he couldn't blame her.

"I left three branches of berries at the base of a tree for him; one was edible, one would cause mild sickness, and the other was poisonous. He took the edible one."

Derek straightened, the puppy and kitten in his arms waking up at the tension rolling off his body, and he glared at the Druid. "You would have killed him for a test?"

"Not at all; the berries had an antidote."

"What if he'd eaten them all and you weren't around with an antidote?!" Isaac asked.

"It was necessary for his training."

"It's not training if he doesn't consent to it! Jesus, you realise he's like a _basket_ short of a picnic, right?" Erica snapped.

"No, he's not. He's smart, smarter than all of you would give him credit for. Just because he has difficulty expressing his thoughts into words, it does _not_ mean that he is stupid," Deaton replied, voice calm despite their shock and anger.

"Is this test necessary for his health or well-being?" Derek asked, voice clipped and rage boiling under the surface.

On the table, the wildling looked between the pack and Deaton, eyes wide and confused at the tension in the room. The Druid looked to the wildling for a moment and didn't reply.

"Alpha Hale asked you a question," Lydia said, glowering.

"Yes, I heard. The test is not necessary for his health or well-being; it is simply to determine what he is, and what kind of power he has. I know the answer to both now."

"What is he?" Isaac asked.

"An emissary, like me," Deaton replied. "Though one far more powerful than I could ever hope to be. He will need training to ensure his power doesn't overwhelm him."

"He's survived the last 10 years without a problem, what can anyone teach him now that's going to be of use?" Cora asked, arms folded over her chest.

Deaton didn't seem to have an answer to that, so Derek stepped forward, looking as intimidating as possible while holding two tiny animals.

"We're leaving," he said to Deaton firmly, tone not allowing for argument or further discussion. Then he looked to the wildling, who looked back at him curiously. "Home?"

"Home," he agreed, then stretched his arms out for the puppy and kitten.

"I'll have Scott organise adoption forms for you to sign later," Deaton said, watching as the wildling gathered the puppy and kitten in his arms.

"They'll need food, too," Isaac said quickly, looking between his Alpha and the Druid.

"Scott can organise that as well, can't you?" Derek asked, looking to his beta and ignoring the Druid.

"Yes," Scott agreed.

"Good, thank you. And Scott, when you're finished for tonight, call someone to bring you home, all right?"

"Yes, Alpha."

Derek put a hand on his shoulder gently and squeezed, then led the pack and wildling out of Deaton's examination room and outside.

...

Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

Erica needed the practice driving, so she and Boyd left to pick Scott up from work that evening. They returned to the loft that night with food for the kitten and puppy, adoption forms to sign, and three bags full of books.

Scott handed the book bags to Derek, his cheeks red. "Deaton said they'd help train him, even if we don't have a Druid to do the training itself. He put them in the car and did something so I couldn't get them out again until we got here. Sorry, Alpha."

Derek was surprised at the beta's apology. "You don't need to apologise; emissaries know more about werewolves than most werewolves, and I doubt even I would have been able to do anything to stop him."

"Oh. Okay. That's good, I thought - " Scott stopped abruptly, then continued when Derek gave a nod, "I thought it was because I wasn't strong enough."

"Not strong enough?" Derek echoed. "Emissary magic is very different to the kind of power werewolves possess, Scott; it's like Deaton said: their power is strength of mind and character. You've got strength where it counts, Scott."

Scott smiled brightly at the compliment and darted in to hug Derek. He tried not to react on impulse and shove his beta away, but there was a sudden tension to his body that they both felt. Still, Derek patted Scott's back briefly and they both pulled away.

"Lydia's in the lounge room reading to the wildling, if you're interested? The rest of the pack's there too," Derek said.

Scott nodded and left. Derek looked at the bags of books and decided to keep them for now. If a Druid had willingly provided the books needed to make sure the wildling wouldn't hurt himself, or the others in Derek's pack - no matter what Cora thought about the wildling's survival skills for the last 10 years, Derek knew that this was a different kind of skill all together - then Derek would use them.

He left the bags of food by the kitchen counter, the books on the table, and then headed to the lounge room. Lydia was sitting on a bean bag in the middle of the room, reading aloud to the wildling who was watching her, enraptured. The rest of the pack were sitting around him, lying or sitting back and listening as well. Cora was lying down with her head resting on Isaac's thigh, who was leaning against Scott, who had his legs flung over Erica's ankle, who was sitting in Boyd's lap. The wildling was somehow in the middle of that mess of limbs and bodies, the pack cocooning around him and his nest of pillows and torn blankets.

Lydia had brought several books, ranging from picture books to _The Lord of the Rings_ , though she was currently reading _The complete stories of Hans Christian Andersen_. Derek noted that Lydia was actually reading _The Little Sea Maid_ for about the third time that evening, and wondered if she'd actually read a different story that night.

Derek looked at the wildling, and remembered Scott's earlier question about why he didn't scent his pack. He made his way into the room slowly, not wanting to disturb Lydia's reading or the others' attention, and sat between Cora and Lydia. Cora lifted her head briefly to grin at him, then promptly planted her feet on his lap, narrowly missing his crotch. He scowled at her briefly, but she'd already returned her head to Isaac's lap and had her eyes closed again. Across from him, Boyd smiled and then returned his attention back to Lydia. Derek rested back against the lounge and listened to the banshee as she continued to read, her voice sure and enunciated clearly.

" _The little sea maid sang the most sweetly of all, and the whole court applauded with hands and tails, and for a moment she felt gay in her heart, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of all in the sea or the earth. But soon she thought again of the world above her; she could not forget the charming Prince, or her sorrow at not having an immortal soul like his_."

...

Stiles woke up feeling extremely warm. The kitten was lying on his shoulder, the puppy on his stomach, and he was surrounded by the wolves. The red-eyed wolf had an arm flung over his legs, the curly one had a foot jammed under Stiles' shoulder, the crooked one was wedged between the curly one's leg and Stiles' head; the brunette one was lying on her stomach, her head resting close to the puppy; the blonde one was still curled up on the black half-wolf's lap, but he was lying next to Stiles, and between their legs, the red one had fallen asleep using the large book as a pillow.

The kitten and puppy woke up as he did and Stiles believed that no one would notice or wake up when he moved, despite them being so close to him. Carefully, and aware of the kitten's need for food _right now_ , Stiles sat up without dislodging anyone too harshly. The red-eyed wolf tightened his hold when he tried to stand, but Stiles was gentle as he pushed his arm away, and was soon standing with the puppy and kitten in his arms. He checked that his knife was hidden away in his shirt before he stepped around the wolves carefully and left with the animals to find food.

He had no way of knowing the bags sitting in the kitchen were actually for the puppy and kitten, and even if he had, Stiles didn't like the smell coming from them anyway. He opened the loft door quietly, stepped outside, and closed the door again behind him. There was food in the forest that they could eat, and he could show them where it was. He set the puppy and kitten down on the ground, then started to jog down the stairs, only checking once to make sure they were following him.

They would need to hunt for their food, just like he had.

...

When Derek woke up, fingers curling to the wildling, only to find _nothing_ , his panic woke the rest of the pack up. They were all stumbling out of the lounge room before they really knew why, and Derek filtered some of his own energy to them, waking them up faster than coffee, a shower, or time would have.

"The wildling's not here. His scent leads out of the loft. Scott, Isaac, Cora, follow his scent. Erica, Boyd, Lydia, go through the other apartments, see if he's hiding somewhere," Derek said, watching as they left to follow his instructions.

Well, most of them. Erica, Boyd, and Lydia waited behind, watching as he stripped off his old shirt and grabbed a new one.

"What are you going to do?" Lydia asked, curious rather than her usual condescending tone.

"I'm going to make sure the Alpha pack don't have him."

"We should face them together," Erica said, voice firm despite the fear they could smell coming from her, and the racing of her heart. Beside her, Boyd squeezed her hand gently.

"If we go together, we pose a threat. If I go alone, it's more likely they won't hurt me."

"But it's not definite, right? You're still the one that killed Deucalion; Kali and Ennis aren't going to forgive you for that! It's suicide if you face them alone!" Erica said, eyes wide.

"It's suicide for all of us if I don't," Derek replied, trying to keep calm in the face of his beta's anguish.

Lydia squared her shoulders, clenched her jaw, and took her phone out from her handbag.

"What're you doing?! He's going to go out there and kill himself! Tell him to stop being stupid!"

Lydia ignored Erica's yelling, silencing her with a look, then turned that same look on to Derek so he wouldn't leave. "Where are you?" she asked once her call was answered.

"Following the wildling's scent, like Derek said," Isaac answered, sounding confused.

" _Where_ are you?" Lydia repeated.

"Give me that," Cora snapped, her voice becoming clearer when she snatched Isaac's phone out of his hand. "He's in the preserve. We keep catching the scent of the puppy and kitten; it looks like he's helping them catch breakfast. Which, y'know, we could all be eating right now if we hadn't been sent on a wild chase."

Erica breathed a sigh of relief, and Lydia raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

"Well, you're in the forest; so hunt!" Derek snapped back, feeling foolish.

Cora just laughed in response, not really caring about the run through the forest, and hung up the phone to throw it back to Isaac, Scott running beside them.

Derek realised that no one seemed overly upset about his worry for the wildling, and he forced himself to relax. While Lydia hadn't been too impressed about being woken up early, she wasn't glaring at him like she might have done once. Erica seemed excited about the idea of a hunt, something they hadn't had a chance to do yet with the Alpha pack and Darach in Beacon Hills.

"Can we go too?" Erica asked eagerly.

"All right. You too, Boyd," Derek said, nodding to him, and watching as they left almost immediately, shedding their clothes along the way. He looked to Lydia, who wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"I think I'll skip hunting for my breakfast, but thanks anyway. You go hunt; I'll stay here and make pancakes for the lone human member of the pack," she said.

"You might need to make more, in case they don't find anything to hunt," Derek replied, a brief grin tugging at his lips.

"Just don't bring back any dead animals!" Lydia called after him as Derek ran downstairs after his betas.

...

Stiles crept through the forest quietly, tracking a rabbit to share with the puppy that was scampering along beside him. The kitten had climbed the trees to follow a bird, taunting and playing with it as it leapt through the trees to follow the flying creature. As far as he could hear, she was doing well. The puppy was easily excited though, and had already chased off two lizards and a squirrel. As they neared the rabbit, Stiles put a hand on the puppy to keep it still, to make it concentrate and listen. Slowly, the puppy settled down, watching the rabbit as it stopped to nibble at a plant.

Stiles watched as the rabbit ate, the creature oblivious to their presence. Overhead, the kitten was creeping closer to the bird still resting in its nest. The puppy's tail wagged in excitement until Stiles quietened it again, and the puppy concentrated. Stiles leapt out from the hiding spot, grabbing the rabbit before it could disappear again, and kept the wriggling creature firm in his hands. The puppy raced forward, snapping at the rabbit and giving small barks of excitement. The kitten jumped down from the tree, a small dead bird in its mouth, and set it beside Stiles proudly.

He held the rabbit out to show her the creature and the kitten swiped a clawed paw at it. The rabbit didn't live for long after that, Stiles' stomach and the puppy's eager barks reminding him that food was necessary. Holding the limp creature in his hand, Stiles headed back along their path to where he had seen a bush of edible berries. The puppy raced along beside him and the kitten batted at the dead bird one more time before picking it up in its mouth to follow after them.

Stiles heard a noise, a great crashing sound that could have been a herd of deer, if deer were ever that clumsy and noisy. He went still, crouching low beside the berry bush and clutching his knife. The puppy and kitten huddled under the bush at Stiles' soft noise of instruction, the dead bird lying between them.

Three of the half-wolves barrelled through the trees, but before Stiles recognised them, he had already thrown his knife at the oncoming threat. His aim was true, and there was a howl of pain from the crooked one as the knife embedded in his shoulder. The curly one and brunette one stopped abruptly, features shifting back to monsters. Stiles dropped the dead rabbit to stalk over to the half-wolves, and the puppy immediately scrambled out from the bush to sink its teeth into the rabbit's fur and start eating. Beside him, the kitten did the same with the bird.

Stiles made stern a noise to tell the half-wolves off, then added ' _no!_ ' for good measure. Before they could say or do anything, he grabbed the hilt of his knife and wrenched it out of the crooked one, ignoring the howl of pain as he cleaned his bloodied blade on the ground.

...

"He stabbed me!" Scott yelled at Derek when he arrived with Erica and Boyd a minute later, pointing to the wildling.

"You're a werewolf, you've been fine for the last five minutes," Cora said, rolling her eyes as she shoved past him to crouch beside the wildling, who was now picking berries off the bush.

"Why did he stab you?" Derek asked.

"Uh, technically, he threw the knife at us when we came through the trees," Isaac said. "He didn't specifically, y'know, stab Scott in the back or something."

"You're defending him?!" Scott asked incredulously, and Isaac reddened and looked away.

"Well, if it was you three making all of that noise ten minutes ago, I'm not surprised you had a knife thrown at you. Hunting is meant to be _quiet_! You scared away all of the game in a five-mile radius!" Derek snapped.

"We don't get to eat breakfast because of you, don't look at me for support," Erica muttered sourly when Scott looked to her and Boyd.

"We can eat berries until the game comes back," Cora said over her shoulder, seeing the wildling eating a few himself.

"How long will that take?" Scott asked.

Cora shrugged and pulled a small branch of berries off the tree. The wildling smacked her hand, making her drop the branch, and she glared at him. He held out his berries, which were dark purple, and held up the branch she'd taken. The berries on her branch were much lighter, and obviously not ripe. He seemed annoyed at the waste, as now those berries wouldn't grow to ripeness.

"Oh. Sorry," Cora said, looking for a purple berry instead. "This?" she asked, pointing to the small cluster of berries.

The wildling nodded, and Cora grinned as she plucked them off the branch individually, feeling proud of herself. She turned to see Boyd, Erica, and Isaac standing behind her, watching carefully.

"Don't get the light berries, they're not ripe," she told them, moving aside.

As she had done, the other betas watched the wildling and asked before they picked their berries off the bush. Scott eventually did the same as well, hunger overtaking his sore shoulder and pride.

Derek watched as the puppy and kitten ate their own food, the wildling teaching his betas how to forage for food on different plants, smacking their hands when they grabbed berries or nuts that weren't ripe or would cause sickness. There were a lot of berries and nuts on the trees and bushes around them, and Derek wondered if this was the Druid's doing. But Deaton had only guessed at the wildling's presence in the forest to begin with, and these trees and bushes had obviously been in the forest for much longer than ten years.

By the time his betas and the wildling had gathered enough berries and nuts to give them some semblance of breakfast, the forest seemed to be returning to normal again. Where Scott, Isaac, and Cora had scared away birds and small animals, noise was returning, birds were singing, and Derek even saw an echidna trundle past slowly.

"Oh, hey, I can smell rabbit. Fresh, not the puppy's," Cora added, grinning.

"Keep your voices down and we'll hunt it; there might be more than one," Derek replied, voice soft.

He let his features slip to a half-shift so he could still communicate with his betas, and watched as they did the same. Derek noticed that Cora, Boyd, and Erica made the transition far smoother than Isaac and Scott did, probably due to the game they'd played with the wildling. He'd have to get Isaac and Scott to practice shifting, too, even if it looked like a game.

"Keep quiet, and follow where I lead. Don't step on any twigs or branches, and if anyone so much as makes a noise above breathing, you don't get to eat," Derek said, grinning slightly through his red gaze.

He received multiple nods in response, and it was then that Derek noticed the wildling was standing beside the betas, obviously waiting to join them. He had no doubt he could keep up - he'd already caught a rabbit on his own, after all - and there was a part of him that felt pride-happy- _something else he couldn't name_ at the wildling's presence on their hunt.

Derek turned and led the hunt, racing through the trees and keeping his steps light. Behind him, he heard the shift of trees and dirt under his betas' feet, all five desperately trying to keep up with his Alpha speed and not make a noise at the same time. The wildling was somewhere between them, not quite keeping up despite his emissary power, but he was definitely light-footed and quiet. Derek slowed down when he recognised the rabbit scent that Cora had fleetingly caught, and waited for the betas to join him, keeping an eye on the rabbit further along the forest. The wildling seemed to understand that Derek was teaching them, and so he didn't rush past to capture the rabbit for himself.

"You have to be fast, quiet, and move to where the rabbit _will be_ , not where it is. You have to predict its movements before even the creature knows where it is going."

There was a look of confusion from his betas, but Derek knew they'd understand once they were caught up with the hunt. His feelings and thoughts would flow down through to them, and they would understand; even back in the loft, Lydia would know what it felt like to be part of a successful hunt.

The rabbit heard a noise that not even they could detect and ran off, darting between the trees nimbly. Derek ran after it, his betas and the wildling following. As he ran, he let his human and rational side slip away, his body making the final shift between human and werewolf, and his mind focusing on nothing but a wolf chasing its meal. The rabbit sensed the danger that chased after it, hopping along faster still. Derek wanted to laugh, but laughing was a human trait, and that was no longer a part of him.

...

The red-eyed wolf continued its hunt, the half-wolves following. Stiles could feel the power rolling off their bodies, the way they became coordinated and certain as their red-eyed leader flowed through the trees like wind. He could feel that feeling as well, small dredges of it that began slow and increased with every metre, every heartbeat. The feeling flowed over him, through him, became him, and in that instant, he _was_ the red-eyed wolf, the leader of the pack of wolves, and he knew them all as he knew himself. He could feel the hunger, the desire, the need, all of it coming from the others and combining with his own feelings, returned and offered to them. The feelings pushed him further along, faster still, until his feet flew along the ground as they'd never done before.

Stiles ran and ran, hunger and need filling him, until he was beside the red-eyed wolf completely, a laugh on his lips and lost in the wind. Somewhere, the red one - Lydia - was feeling a sense of euphoria without knowing why.

The rabbit was ahead, and another joined it, then another, and another. Four rabbits, all being chased through the trees, and they ran after them eagerly, lost to the hunt and feel of the wind rushing past their bodies. The rabbits darted between different trees, Isaac and Scott chasing one; Erica and Boyd after another; Cora racing past after hers; Derek and Stiles chasing the last one together. As they continued to run, Stiles let his power join the red-eyed wolf, the Alpha's power, and he couldn't stop the laugh that followed when they all realised just how powerful he truly was. The forest was him, he was the forest - it and everything in it - belonged to him, from his very own tree deeper within the forest, to the coyote's territory that ran alongside it, to the trees that bordered the town itself. It was all his, and he belonged to it as much as it belonged to him.

The rabbit continued on its merry chase, and Derek snapped his jaws at the creature, the rabbit's heart beating faster until it almost died from pure fright alone. Stiles ran faster, hands stretched and fingers reaching, and Derek darted forward that last inch to close his jaws around the rabbit in the same instant that Stiles snatched it off the floor. They tumbled to the forest floor, the rabbit held between them, and Stiles snarled at the red-eyed wolf for his prize, the wolf growling back at him, pinning him to the floor with his body. Stiles' heart pounded and he growled, tugging at the limp rabbit between the wolf's jaw. The rabbit itself had succumbed to stress, fright, teeth and hands, and had died between them.

The wolf snarled and tore at the rabbit, tearing it in half promptly. Stiles fell back to the forest floor with his half and immediately started eating hungrily; he had shared most of his berries and nuts with the half-wolves when they could no longer find ripe or non-poisonous ones. He barely paid attention to the red-eyed wolf as it snapped up the last of the rabbit, blood staining its maw. Stiles ate all the meat that he could, and while he'd usually keep the bones and fur for himself, he had become accustomed to his warm nest, and his knife was enough. With that in mind, Stiles threw the remainder of the rabbit towards the red-eyed wolf so he could eat it instead. The red-eyed wolf ate it in two big gulps, then moved to stand beside Stiles, licking at his face to clean the blood. Stiles winced at the rough feel of the wolf's tongue on his skin, but it was better than nothing.

When the wolf finished cleaning him, he stepped back and howled loudly for his pack. Stiles felt his chest reverberate with the sound, and not just because he was so close to the red-eyed wolf. The half-wolves arrived moments later, their mouths stained red, and one by one, they let the red-eyed wolf lick them clean as well.

When he finished, they headed back through the forest to where the puppy and kitten were waiting at the bushes of berries and nuts. The kitten had found a warm spot to doze, and the puppy was pouncing on various bugs and lizards that rushed past. The puppy barked eagerly at their arrival, jumping up onto Stiles' leg to be picked up. The kitten woke up at the puppy's noise, stretched with an arching back, and then climbed up Stiles leg to his shoulder.

They headed home quietly, feeling full and sated, and once they arrived at the loft, Stiles collapsed onto his nest to sleep.

...

Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

"Where are you going?" Derek asked Lydia, surprised to see her awake and dressed before 11am on a Sunday.

"Police station; I finally have an appointment with the Sheriff. She very kindly made time for me, considering the murders in the last three months. I'm going to ask her about the Stilinski boy," Lydia replied, checking her makeup in a small compact mirror.

"Pray, do tell, exactly how you're going to bring this up in conversation?" Derek asked, taunting her with her own words from the week before.

"School assignment," Lydia replied with a smirk.

"Good idea," he replied, impressed.

"Oh, I know," she answered, though Derek could see that she was pleased at his response. "I'll let you know what I find out, dearest Alpha."

"Thank you."

"Oh, and when the wildling wakes up, read to him. Don't put him in front of a movie like Scott and Isaac did yesterday!" Lydia called over her shoulder.

Derek had seen them with a laptop, but hadn't known _that_ was what they'd been doing. He should have been suspicious when they'd left for a date with Allison soon afterwards, but he was tired after training all day and hadn't thought to question them.

Sighing, Derek looked at the stack of books sitting in the kitchen. There were more fairy tales than anything else, something Lydia had justified as being important lessons for children - or child-like young adults - but Derek didn't mind them, really. He grabbed one from the top of the pile and started to read, eating toast for breakfast. He got lost in the words, the short stories that made his chest ache for love and all those he had lost in his life, and Derek started sharply when he realised the wildling was sitting beside him, his sleepy warmth at his elbow.

"Read?" the wildling asked.

Derek waited, as he'd seen Lydia do over the past week, and the wildling blinked sleepily, obviously trying to figure out why Derek wasn't reading yet.

"Please?" he added.

Derek nodded and started to read aloud. Boyd and Erica traipsed into the kitchen next, Cora following them with her eyes still mostly closed. Sitting around the island, cups of coffee sitting amongst tired limbs and resting heads, they all listened as Derek read about Red Riding Hood, altering the story to have a more wolf-friendly ending. Sort of.

"The wolf had saved little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother from the greedy axe-wielding hunter. But in killing the hunter, the wolf had been cut by the poison-coated axe, and without the hunter alive to give an antidote, the wolf was going to die.

"Luckily, little Red's grandmother was a witch who knew how to treat poison-coated axe wounds, and the wolf lived in the forest, chasing squirrels and rabbits happily ever after," he added, not wanting to end on a sour note.

"Rabbit?" the wildling asked eagerly.

"Sorry, kid. All we've got is toast," Cora replied, shaking her head.

...

Stiles _hated_ toast. He wanted to go out hunting again, but the red-eyed wolf hadn't let him leave. The puppy and kitten were allowed to leave to hunt, but any time he tried, the red-eyed wolf or one of the half-wolves stopped him. Stiles had spent most of yesterday sulking in his nest and destroying another blanket in retaliation.

The brunette and curly wolves had watched him as he stabbed and tore through the blanket with his knife, but they hadn't stopped him like the red-eyed wolf might have done. Instead, the brunette wolf moved to sit across from him, throwing long strips of the blanket at him so he could destroy them further still. Stiles had thrown pieces of the blanket back at her and the curly one, then made a slashing motion with his hand curled like claws to indicate the game. They seemed to understand, and soon, what was left of the blanket was in literal pieces, their laughter mingling with the mess.

The red-eyed wolf had come into the room to find them covered in minuscule pieces of the blanket, but had sighed and left without a sound. He returned a moment later with two empty pillow cases, throwing them at the brunette and curly ones with a rush of words that Stiles didn't understand. He frowned, watching as the brunette and curly one started gathering the blanket pieces and shoving them into an empty pillow case. It wasn't the best game he'd played, but Stiles got to keep the pillows to add to his nest, so he didn't mind.

"Rabbit, please?" Stiles asked, eyes wide and hoping the extra word would help him get good food for breakfast.

"No."

Stiles scowled and glared, but that didn't work either. After a few minutes, two pieces of toast were sitting in front of him, and Stiles scowled at them too.

"Peanut butter, Nutella, or honey?" Cora offered, indicating to each of the jars.

Stiles grabbed the first two; at least _they_ made toast all right. It was nothing compared to deer though.

...

"Where's he gone now?" Derek asked, looking at Erica and Cora.

Erica seemed surprised at his question. "I thought he was sulking in his nest thing still?"

"Last place I saw him," Cora agreed with a nod.

"Well, he's not there."

"He's not invisible again, is he? Lydia's not back yet to find him, and I don't want another mess with ants," Erica groaned.

"That was your idea, smart-ass," Derek shot back with a glower. "Try to find him. I'll check the other apartments."

Erica and Cora muttered to each other, but Derek ignored them and left the loft to go downstairs.

Derek was checking the apartment that had had the ants in it, sniffing not only for the wildling, but for any rot or mould in the floor itself, when he heard the wildling's cry. It was loud, echoing, and seemed to be coming from _outside_. Derek was at the window in a heartbeat, looking down to the building's carpark where the wildling was facing off with Kali and Ennis.

He was out of the apartment immediately, running downstairs with a loud growl, eyes red and claws and fangs out. Erica, Cora, and Boyd were all behind him, eyes gold and he tried not to focus on the fear emitting from them at being faced with the Alphas again. He promised himself that he wouldn't let anything happen to them.

Derek slammed into the door, almost breaking it off the hinges to get outside that much faster. He roared at the two Alphas, drawing their attention away from the wildling.

"Ah, so you are home. We were just passing by, looking to get ourselves a little snack," Kali said, smirking at the wildling briefly.

The wildling didn't understand her words, but the tone was clear enough, and he growled at her fiercely.

"Oh, this snack has some bite to it!" she laughed, then stalked towards the wildling.

The wildling growled again, then disappeared. Kali blinked, stopping short, and Derek relaxed an iota to know that the wildling's trick worked on other Alphas as well.

"Yeah, he does that sometimes," Derek sneered. "Good luck catching what you can't see, Kali."

"I can still hear him! Scent him. He's got your scent all over him, little Alpha," she sneered back at him.

"Enough talking," Ennis growled, stepping forward and swiping his large arms, obviously hoping to hit the wildling at random.

Behind Derek, Erica scoffed, obviously trying not to laugh and failing. "Really, _that's_ your plan of attack?"

Ennis turned and roared at her. A rock hit him on the head, stopping his roar halfway. He spun around, swinging his arms as if he was completing the butterfly stroke in mid-air.

This time Cora spluttered her laughter. When Kali growled at her, another rock flew through the air and hit the red-eyed wolf on the head.

Derek had no idea where the wildling was, but if he wasn't fast enough, then Ennis would probably find him eventually. Behind him, Boyd, Erica, and Cora gathered as many rocks as they could and started pelting them at the two Alphas. The scent of fear lessened with each rock they threw, even if it didn't hit the target, though as they continued, more and more hit the two Alphas.

"You can get off my property and leave us alone, or you can be humiliated further by three betas with rocks. Your choice," Derek added.

Kali snarled, darting forward and swiping at him with her claws. Derek hadn't been expecting an attack, so he wasn't fast enough to avoid her long claws, and he roared in pain as they scratched along his chest, drawing thick lines of blood. Derek stumbled back, Kali falling along with him due to her momentum, and Boyd grabbed the Alpha's head in his large hands, putting pressure on her skull. Derek moved into Kali so she couldn't reach Boyd, her claws digging into Derek's sides instead of his beta's. She screamed and Ennis tried to move forward to her, but Cora and Erica threw the last of their rocks at him and then threw themselves at his large body to hold him back.

While Ennis was preoccupied with the two betas, Boyd was crushing Kali's skull and Kali was desperately trying to tear Derek to pieces. Only, her claws didn't seem to be working. They were scratching, small scratches that were no more than thick paper cuts, but she wasn't able to get any further than that. Somehow, Derek knew that the wildling was responsible for this, and even though his chest was still bleeding fiercely, Kali would soon be dead. He just hoped that Erica and Cora would be able to handle Ennis.

Just as he thought that, Derek saw Erica get thrown off Ennis' back, the Alpha roaring and backhanding Cora fiercely. Derek roared for both of his betas, even as he heard Kali scream an ear-piercing shriek that rattled his eardrums due to her proximity. Then abruptly, her screams stopped.

Boyd sagged against Derek, panting and overwhelmed at the rush of the Alpha's power within him.

"No. No, I... I can't. Derek, take it. Please," Boyd begged, eyes wide and red.

He didn't hear a single moment of hesitation or lie in Boyd's heartbeat, and so Derek nodded, grabbing his beta's arm and leaching all of his newfound Alpha power.

Kali's power mixed with Deucalion's power; it was such a head rush that Derek couldn't blame Boyd at all. He felt sick at the two combining powers, his mind and body screaming, blood rushing and _everything_ aching and changing, yet not moving at all. Derek could barely hear Ennis' roar for his mate, but somehow, he knew the exact moment that Ennis' roar changed from grief to revenge.

Ennis ran at Derek, no longer preoccupied with the betas or the wildling. Derek saw the wildling flicker back into existence, but Ennis was so focused on Derek that he didn't notice and kept running at him. Derek stood up to his full height in the exact second that Ennis reached him, his claws digging in to the Alpha's stomach. Ennis roared in his face, long fangs and red eyes, and then dug his claws into Derek's shoulders. They sliced into his shoulders like soft butter, blood pouring and bone showing. He heard the wildling behind him, a laboured breath and a scrape of his foot on the asphalt in warning, and then Derek was wrenched backwards without a hand touching him. He clenched his hand as it was pulled out of Ennis' stomach, intestines and a chunk of his liver caught in his claws. Ennis roared in pain as his body started to heal around the wound, with a large part of his abdomen strung outside of his body.

"Tug o' war?" Cora asked, breathing heavily beside him, covered in sweat and flecks of blood.

"That's gross, and I want in," Erica said with a grin, her bruises starting to fade and blood smearing her face.

Before Derek could stop them, both betas grabbed onto the slimy small intestine protruding from Ennis' body and started to pull. The Alpha roared, trying to pull it back to stuff back into his body and speed his healing factor, but with the blood of two Alphas' and their destroyed packs flowing through his blood, Derek was stronger than Ennis. His betas could feel their Alpha's strength, flowing through their pack connection, helping them heal faster as well.

Erica and Cora goaded each other into pulling more and more of Ennis' intestine out of his stomach, large intestine following. Somehow, they managed to loop the length around Ennis' neck, dragging the Alpha forward, a trail of blood behind him. Ennis struggled, obviously thinking to claw off his intestines and escape, but the wildling stood on his back and Ennis' movements stopped completely. The wildling was breathing heavily, a scrape on his face and arm where Ennis had knocked him onto the asphalt, and at the sight of that, Derek stepped forward and tore off Ennis' head in pure rage and anger.

He fell to his knees, the power from all three Alpha's coursing through him, and he wanted nothing more than to ravage and rampage through the town. To make everyone kneel to him, to declare him as supreme above all else, to show him reverence and fear. He was the Alpha of Alphas and none would dare to challenge him. He could control the werewolves across the US, then Canada and Central and South America; he would then expand his army across the sea, across countries and continents. He would destroy each and every person that defied him, and the _world_ would bow to him.

A hand landed on his shoulder and all of Derek's anger and plans for world domination fell away in an instant. In fact, he was feeling quite tired, like he was Sleeping Beauty in one of Lydia's books and he could sleep for a hundred years. As the wounds on his chest started to close, so did his eyes, drooping no matter how much he struggled to stay awake. Eventually, he succumbed and fell asleep, collapsing down on to the asphalt.

...

When Stiles was sure the red-eyed wolf was sleeping and would stay that way, he ran into the forest. The half-wolves didn't know whether to follow him or not, but as he discarded his scent and turned invisible, they would have lost his trail sooner rather than later. Stiles continued through the forest, stretching out his mind to find what he was searching for, and turned abruptly when he found it.

He made a brief detour to scoop up the kitten and puppy, holding them close as he continued to run through the forest. The two animals were quiet, as if they could sense his need - and perhaps they did - and Stiles continued to run, the forest flying past him.

Almost an hour later, Stiles had reached his destination, and he stopped for a moment to ensure that it was safe. He stepped out to his tree and waited until the Druid turned around to face him.

"Hello," the Druid said, inside voice matching his outer one.

Stiles frowned and tried to do the same so he would be understood. "Red wolf. Home. Need help." His outside voice was shaky, trying to pronounce words long repressed, while his inside voice spoke of the bloodshed and battle that had occurred earlier, of three red-eyed wolves' power being housed in one.

Deaton's eyes widened at the picture Stiles' voice provided and he nodded immediately. Stiles sighed in relief and turned to guide the Druid back to the red-eyed wolf.

...

Derek woke up with a roar of pain, and it turned into a hostile sound when he saw Deaton standing beside his bed.

"You have to calm down, Derek. You've taken on the power of three Alphas who were already far too powerful in their own right; you will die if I don't help you."

"Like you helped my family? Where were you when Kate was burning them alive?" he snarled.

"I was acting as emissary for the Hale pack at Taila's command; I was overseas at the time. I came back as fast as I possibly could, but by then, you and your sister had already fled the state and I was unable to find you. Your sister purchased some very strong warding charms, so all attempts at scrying were useless. Now, are you going to let me help you, or would you prefer to kill everyone in sight?" Deaton snapped.

Derek lifted his head and saw his pack - all of them, including Scott, Isaac, and Lydia - standing in the corner. Isaac was trying not to cower at the power that rolled off Derek, through them, making them sick and angry as well, and Derek could see that he was clutching Scott's hand so tightly it was practically bruised. He couldn't see the wildling, and he looked around the room for him, brows furrowed together in a mix of concern and confusion. He couldn't remember what happened after he'd taken off Ennis' head. _Had he hurt the wildling? Was the wildling injured or dead because of him?_ Derek rolled onto his side and vomited into a waiting bucket, sweat dripping and his body shaking at the effort.

"Where's... where is he?" he asked, looking to his pack.

"Stiles."

Derek frowned at Lydia's response. "What?"

"It's the wildling's name: Stiles. Sheriff Graeme told me his full name, but it's Polish and no one could pronounce it, so when he was a kid, he decided to be called Stiles instead. According to Sheriff Graeme, he announced it at his third birthday party when no one could sing 'happy birthday' to him properly."

"He's hunting with the puppy and kitten. They left about an hour ago," Erica said. Then she glanced to Deaton who was rinsing out a washcloth in a tub of ice cold water. "He's the one that brought Deaton here yesterday."

Derek blinked slowly, trying to wrap his head around all of this new information, all the while it felt like his body was on fire and the only way to soothe the pain would be by bathing in blood. He shuddered in revulsion, knowing on some level that these thoughts weren't his own, had nothing to do with him, and all to do with the three Alphas' whose power resided within him. Reluctantly, Derek let Deaton guide him back onto the bed, clutching his hands in pain as the washcloth was placed on his forehead. Despite the initial cold, Derek's body was overheating to the point where he was a personal sauna, and the washcloth soon lost any coolness.

With his pack nearby and Deaton replacing the cool cloths as soon as Derek made them hot enough, Derek drifted back off to sleep. His dreams were filled with murder and blood and the deaths of everyone he had ever loved.

...

Stiles returned from hunting with the puppy and kitten, the red-eyed wolf sleeping fitfully. He placed the two animals on the red-eyed wolf's stomach and watched as the red-eyed wolf stopped twitching in his sleep. The Druid looked exhausted as he replaced the ice water again. Stiles waited until he had replaced the red-eyed wolf's washcloths again, and then made the Druid sleep. He fought it for a minute, but the last 30 hours had taken its toll, and the Druid was soon asleep as well.

Stiles left them to get his nest, dragging it into the room and setting it beside the red-eyed wolf the best he could. When he was finally satisfied with his nest's position, he curled up against his pillow and placed his hand over the red-eyed wolf's heart.

Whimpering slightly at the pain and anger and blood that flowed, Stiles took a deep breath to centre himself, just as his _Matka_ had taught him when he was young. ( _Mother_. Polish)

The Druid thought he was the only one to use Stiles' dreams to teach him, but Stiles' whole family had taught him how to use his magic, how to heal the forest and the trees, how to hunt and how to find berries. His _Dziadek_ was the one who taught him to make knives from rocks and tree branches; his _Babcia_ showed him the best way to skin an animal to make the meat last longer; his _Matka_ was the one like him, like the Druid, who taught him all about his magic and how to use it; his _Ojciec_ helped him make his home in the forest, to stalk an animal, to quiet his mind. (Grandfather, Grandmother, Mother, Father.)

 _Nieuwaga znaczy śmierć_ , his Ojciec had told him seriously, when Stiles was still young and easily distracted, showing him the rattlesnake curled on a rock a mere metre away from Stiles' hiding place. ( _Distractions mean death_. Polish)

He'd focused his mind, fighting against the need to look at everything, fighting his natural instinct to run away when he really needed to fight, when he needed to eat. He fought tooth and nail to stay alive, to listen to the forest, to take only what he needed. Stiles had his family's lessons, all spoken in Polish, and he fought to remember _everything_ they said, until they no longer came to help. The Druid's lessons started soon after that, English far harder to understand, but the content similar enough to his Mama's lessons that he understood the Druid's actions more than his words.

Now, he used a combination of both Polish and English lessons to help the red-eyed wolf, drawing out the sickness that was inside of him, the power that wanted to feast on the world, the power that wanted more power, always hungry for more and never sated. While the others slept, Stiles kept his hand flat over the red-eyed wolf's heart and healed him, just as he'd healed the forest.

...

Thanks for reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Hosio for correcting the Polish in this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

Derek woke up several times, but he had no idea how much time had passed when he was finally awake long enough to sit up and move about himself. He felt better than he had in, well, _years_ , to be honest. His chest felt light, his head wasn't clouded with grief or anger or guilt, and he even felt like he might smile for no reason in particular. Derek was glad that he was alone, since he was sure that his pack would probably mistake him for an imposter if he actually did smile.

Pulling off his sweat-soaked clothes, Derek listened out for his pack and determined he really was alone. Walking to the bathroom naked was a luxury he rarely had, and Derek felt himself chuckling at the thought of being naked a luxury. He showered, washing off several days' worth of sweat and blood, feeling as though years of emotion were swirling down the drain along with them.

Stepping out of the shower, Derek dried off with a towel, checking his reflection in the mirror to assure himself that he was really all still there. He had no scars on his shoulders from Ennis' attack, nor Kali's scratches across his chest, and Derek thought that he even looked taller too. He flashed his eyes in the mirror, surprised to find them still red. He had honestly expected his Alpha power to be stripped away in an effort to heal him, but it was still there. There was no corresponding need for power, for blood, for world domination, and Derek was relieved at the realisation.

Curious, Derek shifted to his half-form, then to his full wolf form. A thumping happiness hit him when he found he was still able to complete a full shift, and Derek left the bathroom as a wolf, kicking the towel off his hind leg, his tail wagging. He wanted to sniff everything, to put his scent on it all, to make sure everything in his loft still belonged to him and his pack. So Derek did exactly that. He rolled around on the couches and pillows, burrowing his head and body under blankets, and then he made his way into the wildling's room.

Derek's investigation was cut short when his pack returned home, opening the loft door to find him nuzzling at the wildling's nest.

The wildling growled and immediately pounced on Derek, pulling him away from his nest. Derek yapped and playfully growled in return, and the wildling grinned and readied his knife. Derek pounced as the wildling ran forward, both of them clashing and tumbling to the ground, paws and hands caught as they fought. The wildling sliced a thin red line on Derek's side, and in response, Derek made a move that would bruise rather than cut. Eventually, their fight dissolved into playful growls and snaps. Victorious, Derek stood over the wildling, and nuzzled against his cheek.

"Hey, Derek. Are you scenting him?" Scott asked in a whisper, making Derek belatedly realise that his pack was still watching.

He backed away from the wildling, but rather than turn back to his human form, Derek gave a tug on Isaac's pants to bring him down to the floor next to the wildling. This was far easier than trying to explain himself. He tugged Scott down as well, and would have done the same with Erica if she hadn't followed them down, getting the idea.

"Really, we're doing this on the concrete floor?" Lydia asked with a sigh, brushing off her dress, but not complaining as she settled down between Isaac and Scott.

Cora was next, and Boyd was last on the floor, curling up around Erica protectively. Derek waited until all of his pack members were comfortable before he sprawled himself over them, ignoring Erica's squeal and Lydia's half-hearted threat about getting wolf hair on her dress. The wildling was tucked between Erica and Isaac, right in the middle of the pile, and Derek opened an eye to check on the wildling, only to find him already dozing off. The puppy and kitten were on his torso, the puppy's tail wagging slowly as they followed the wildling to sleep. Content, Derek slept as well.

...

Stiles wasn't avoiding the red-eyed wolf, not really. He just needed to spend more time in the forest, teaching the kitten and puppy how to hunt, and checking on the trees and his territory. The coyote yipped at him excitedly when he returned to his tree, though she stayed on her side of the border. Stiles growled back at her, friendly enough, but still a warning to stay away. The coyote yipped again, offended at his insinuation, and then bounded off, content now that she knew he was still alive.

The kitten meowed in alarm, stuck halfway up Stiles' tree. The puppy was going around in circles at the base of the tree, sniffing and scenting the earth. Stiles picked the puppy up and placed it in a small pouch carefully. He coaxed the kitten off the tree trunk and placed it next to the puppy. With them both secure against him, he climbed the tree with ease and without hesitation. Stiles growled a warning to the squirrel in his tree, warning the small fuzzy creature to not steal his store of nuts. The squirrel chittered in response, then curled up and continued to sleep.

When Stiles was on his favourite branch - hidden within the treetops but providing a fantastic view if he moved a few of the branches out of the way - he took the puppy and kitten out to let them explore. The puppy trembled in the wind and at the height and stayed close to Stiles, nuzzling against his stomach and legs. The kitten moved along the tree branch with ease, sniffing delicately at the swirling wind and leaves around them. Stiles held the puppy close to calm the creature. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes so he could centre himself, continue to heal the forest, and replenish his power.

He didn't mind being with the wolves for the most part, but there was no way they could be considered _quiet_ and that was what Stiles needed to get over the ordeal of healing the red-eyed wolf. The power of three wolves and their packs had been housed in him and while Deaton had tried to bind the power, Stiles knew that it was only a small bind when the power was so _big_ and needed more than that. He'd made the Druid sleep with his power, though he hadn't needed much as the man was obviously exhausted. Then, with the red-eyed wolf sleeping fitfully and his pack in pain, Stiles used his own power to draw out the extra power within the red-eyed wolf. He had planned on ridding himself of the power slowly and carefully, when the wolves were sleeping and wouldn't disturb him, but they had been a hive of activity since the red-eyed wolf had woken up and Stiles didn't seem to have a moment of peace, even when they were asleep.

Now, after two full days of that destructive and consuming power being within himself, Stiles needed to get rid of it sooner rather than later. This way wouldn't be as slow or careful as he'd like, but it would work.

The branches of the Nemeton swayed around him and Stiles opened his eyes, the irises bright red.

...

Derek helped his pack prepare for the upcoming lunar eclipse that evening. They'd been busy ever since he'd woken up from Deaton's treatment, after he'd agreed to have a party to celebrate both his recovery and the eclipse. It was for safety reasons as well, to keep them together when they were at their weakest, especially for Derek. More importantly to his betas however, was the ability to get drunk. Derek had explained what the lunar eclipse would do to them - effectively turn them human for a few short hours - and how, when his family was still alive, they'd celebrated with a party and games. His pack had jumped on the idea and for the most part, the preparations were going smoothly. Derek really had Lydia to thank for that - she'd taken over planning and organising without him needing to ask for her help - though that did mean that he was left with the tougher aspects of dealing with his over-excited pack.

"You're not inviting Allison," Derek said for the fifth - or possibly hundredth - time.

Both Scott and Isaac looked wounded.

"She wouldn't hurt us!" Scott argued.

"You can't guarantee that, and I refuse to jeopardise the safety of my whole pack because you want to get laid!" Derek snapped, the words hitting a little too close to home.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself and not project his own past on his two young betas.

"The party is to celebrate our pack, not our pack and your girlfriend," Derek added, trying to sound calm and kind.

Scott's jaw set and he glared. "What's happening with the wildling then? He's not pack."

Derek fought back the urge to snarl at Scott for his words, his wolf far too close to the surface. "We can set his nest up in a different apartment," he added, trying to convince himself that it would be enough; the wildling - Stiles - wouldn't be as close as he'd like, but he wouldn't be so far away as to be in danger.

Derek tried not to think about how the wildling had been on his property when Kali and Ennis attacked.

 _They would be safe_ , he reminded himself. _Come the lunar eclipse, any Alphas that hadn't already been killed or fled the state would be just as weak as they would be. They wouldn't dare attack them then_.

"Where is Stiles anyway?" Isaac asked, looking around for the wildling.

"I'm not sure. See if you can find him and make sure he's not destroying another blanket?" Derek said, glad to give his betas something to do other than argue with him.

Isaac nodded and left, tugging Scott along with him reluctantly.

"If you've got time to stand around, you've got time to slice fruit," Lydia said, passing by with an armful of brightly coloured cushions and blankets.

Grateful for something to do, Derek headed to the kitchen.

He was halfway through the bowl of fruit when Isaac and Scott practically barrelled into the kitchen, Derek setting his knife aside before someone got hurt.

"We can't find the wildling. He's not in the apartment; his scent stops at the edge of the forest," Isaac added.

"He's probably just taken the kitten and puppy out to hunt," Scott said, a little petulantly.

Derek wanted to run out to the forest right then and there, but he forced himself to stay where he was, picking up the knife and grabbing an orange. "If he's not back in an hour, I'll go look for him. I don't know what effect the lunar eclipse will have on him, but I'd prefer it if he was safe."

"We can go look," Isaac offered, though Scott didn't look pleased at the thought.

"No, it's better that you all stay together. I can run faster and I'll be back in time for the eclipse. Why don't you help Lydia with the pillows and blankets?" Derek suggested, cutting up the orange.

Isaac and Scott left for the lounge room a moment later. Derek forced himself to continue cutting up the fruit, though he kept an ear on the ticking clock, counting the minutes as they ticked past.

...

Stiles had rid himself of Kali and Ennis' power, and now there was just Deucalion's power left. It was the largest of the three, the most consuming, and the one that set his teeth on edge just _thinking_ about it for too long.

He blinked slowly, checking on the puppy and kitten to ensure they hadn't fallen off the tree branch. The puppy was sleeping in the circle of his legs, eyes closed and chest rising and falling softly. The kitten had pounced on a firefly and killed it with its claws, sitting the dead bug in front of Stiles proudly. He made a soft noise to convey how impressed he was, and the kitten meowed, stalking across the branch to bat the dead firefly away to the floor below. With that done, the kitten climbed into his lap, flopping down across the puppy to sleep as well.

Stiles grinned and stroked them both slowly until the kitten fell asleep moments later. With both animals safe and calm, he concentrated on his breathing - _in, two, three, four, out, two, three, four_ \- and closed his eyes once more.

Stiles let the power flow out of him in slow increments and changed it as he did so, turning it from something red and blood-lusting to blue and calming. The forest accepted the power as he provided it to the trees and wind and earth around him. He had to ensure that the power was pure before he did so though, as the red power was not good for the forest. Blue, the power it had been before blood and death had changed it, would let the trees grow strong, the berries grow ripe, the animals live on. The water in the stream bubbled and flowed a little more surely, the tree roots burrowed that little bit deeper, the flowers smelled a little sweeter, and the whole forest thrived with every slow and careful release of power.

He had done similar over the years with his own energy, the excess built up until he practically vibrated with it, the forest accepting his energy and power, returning it back to him so he could be calm and still again. The Nemeton below him had been a mere stump when Stiles had first stumbled across it, when he'd been still too young and traumatised to do anything useful.

He'd come upon it soon after the crash, his eyes stinging with smoke, his socks and shoes lost long ago, and his body covered in bloodied scratches and bruises. Despite the fact he was trembling from the top of his shaven head down to his bare toes, Stiles had managed to climb up onto the stump, the block of wood longer and larger than him, but his limbs surprisingly steady as he climbed up the gnarled roots. He had collapsed on the stump once he'd reached the top, his body weary and aching and bleeding, and he had fallen to sleep almost immediately. Stiles hadn't expected to wake up.

Stiles had woken what could have been days later, his body no longer bleeding, and the stump growing green shoots in a circle around him. He had stayed by the tree for a few days, scared by the unfamiliar noises, terrified by his own wild imaginings of what would happen if he left the tree only to be faced by... monsters.

Due to his incessant questions as a child - though they had lessened in the last year due to his mother's illness - Stiles knew that water was necessary to survive. He had finally ventured out from his tree stump and found a stream nearby. His thirst was so great by that time that Stiles practically fell into the stream to drink his fill. He spent a good half an hour throwing up afterwards, not knowing that he had to drink gently to allow his body to adjust. He knew not to drink so much from then on, and treated the surrounding trees with the same caution and care. A few nights were spent writhing in pain, that day's berries or nuts causing his stomach to blossom with pain.

After two weeks, Stiles started having dreams. His family, not monsters in his mind, taught him and calmed him. He woke each morning with a new understanding of the forest around him, his _Matka_ taking care to teach him how to quiet his body and mind, how to return his excessive energy to the forest around him. (Mother)

His Matka's lessons were the ones that took the longest for Stiles to understand, but she was always patient with him, watching and waiting as he repeated her instructions word for word so he'd remember them when he woke up. He didn't say them aloud when he did wake up, his trauma still too great to communicate even with himself, but he said them in his head instead. In his dreams his Polish was perfect and flawless and he understood every word that was being said. The words he said in his mind once he'd woken up weren't quite so perfect, but he had nothing but time to practice.

For a long time, Stiles' _Ojciec_ wasn't present in his dreams. When he finally did appear during one of his _Babcia_ 's lessons, his father looked apprehensive, as though he thought Stiles blamed him. He'd simply hugged his father and dragged him down to the tree stump so Babcia could continue her lesson about cooking berries and meat without damaging the forest around him. (Father. Grandmother)

When Stiles was older and more confident, when his family's lessons had finished and the Druid's begun, he had travelled away from the Nemeton for a few days. The Nemeton was now a large tree that looked like it had never been cut down in the first place and while his power and energy had helped it grow, it still had yet to reach its full glory. Instinctively, Stiles knew that it would reach its full height by the next winter.

As he travelled, the coyote trotted alongside him for some of the way, curious about where he was going, but unable to ask. A few hours passed before the coyote realised he wasn't going to return to the Nemeton that day, and it yipped at him before taking off, heading back to the safety and security of its den. Stiles continued to walk through the forest, his knife in his hand, some dried berries and meat in a pouch, and his leathered bag full of water. He sipped and ate when needed, taking care not to drink or eat too much.

Finally, he reached his destination: a small cave similar to the one the Druid had told him about in stories. Stiles stopped on the edge of the tree line that met the cave and scooped up some dirt from the base of the tree. Once he had crossed into the cave, he sprinkled the dirt along the entrance and smeared the remainder across his bare chest. Stiles sat in the cave, quieting his thoughts and mind, ignoring the brief rumble of hunger from his stomach. He'd survived longer on less.

When Stiles' mind was finally quiet, the only noise he could hear coming from the wildlife and wind outside, he began his Matka's final lesson. His family only visited his dreams once a year now, his lessons long over, and while his Matka had taught him this final lesson, she had added that Stiles should wait until he was ready. He had spent many hours wondering _when_ he would be ready; _was today was the day, or should he wait longer?_ Stiles had woken early this morning, knowing with a sudden and certain clarity that he was ready and he had to complete his final lesson. He had no way of knowing that today was his thirteenth birthday.

Stiles closed his eyes, blocking out the daylight outside the cave, and breathed in deeply once more. He then imagined a fire within his body, a small spark coming to life. Flames started to glow soft and orange in his centre, growing hotter and stronger, reds and yellows, greens, blinding white, and then finally a blue colour that burned brighter than the sun. Stiles felt the fire burning within him, felt the flames licking at his fingertips and across his chest, felt the warmth from the fire and his spark blazing away brightly.

When he was covered from head to toe in flames, Stiles slowly moved his body away from himself. He did it carefully and with a precision that would have made his Matka proud. When it was done, Stiles looked at his body sitting on the floor cave, and then to his new form, blue light where his hands should have been. A feeling of joy flooded through him as he realised he'd successfully completed the first part of his Matka's lesson.

Now for the second part: projecting his energy to the forest to help it heal.

Stiles had completed the second part by the time the sun rose the next morning, his flame-body no longer as bright blue as it had been. He found it difficult to remember his Matka's instructions to return to his body, but managed to do so before he faded away completely. His body was so stiff exhausted that Stiles didn't even have the energy to fall over so he could sleep. He fell asleep within seconds, his body collapsing to the ground a moment later.

Since then, Stiles had perfected his Matka's lesson, projecting his flame-body to check over every part of the forest, ensuring that it was safe and protected against the monsters who tried to cut down the beautiful trees and destroy the animals and ruin the fruit and nuts and flowers. He had carefully managed to combine his Matka's lesson with the Druid's lesson so that he could project his energy without projecting himself at the same time, even though he still took the time to see the forest for himself every time the moon was full in the sky.

Stiles used a combination of these lessons to cleanse the ill-begotten power from red-eyed wolf and return it to the forest, though he didn't use his flame-body while the puppy and kitten were in his care. He sometimes forgot to return to his body for half a day or more, and they would get hungry sooner than that.

Just as he finished the last cleansing and returning of the now-blue power to the forest, Stiles heard a crashing sound in the trees. He returned to himself a moment later, blinking brown eyes, and confused for a split second when he realised that the sky was darkening with the start of the eclipse. He tucked the puppy and kitten into his pouch and climbed down the tree, ignoring the tingling sensation from his limbs. He held his knife tight as he headed towards the source of the noise.

There was a loud howl as overhead, the sun completely blocked the moon. The howling turned into a roar of pain and Stiles ran forward because he knew what was making the noise now: the red-eyed wolf.

...

Derek stood almost exactly when an hour had passed and Stiles hadn't returned.

"Are you sure you'll be back in time?" Erica asked, worried.

"I promise. I'll be back for the eclipse," Derek said, putting a hand on her shoulder to ease her concerns.

Derek knew that she was worried she would have a seizure as soon as the lunar eclipse started, and while he doubted it would happen, he wanted to be here to ensure she would be all right. Before he left, he looked for Boyd.

"You're in charge while I'm gone. Look after the others," Derek said.

Boyd seemed surprised at the responsibility, but he nodded firmly. "Be safe out there. You're coming back with Stiles, aren't you?"

"If I find him, I'll definitely try," Derek said.

"Good luck," Boyd said.

Derek felt for a moment that maybe he shouldn't leave. His pack was here, they were together, and he wanted to be with them. He might even convince them to have a dog pile on the floor once they'd finished partying. _Surely the wildling would be all right on his own? He practically was the forest, after all._

Still, there was another part of Derek that needed to know that the wildling really was all right, see the evidence with his own two eyes. _Stiles might be adept at surviving in the forest, but he could still be hurt or injured somehow, and besides, no one knew what the Blood Moon would do to him,_ Derek justified, slipping off his shirt as he headed out of the loft.

"Hang up your clothes, you weren't raised by wolves!" Lydia called after him.

Derek rolled his eyes as his betas snickered at her joke, even though she hadn't intended to be funny, and he folded his shirt and pants along the way, leaving them neatly inside the entry of the apartment building.

With that done, Derek shifted and set off for the forest, running as fast as his four legs could possibly take him. He followed Stiles' scent until it disappeared completely. Derek didn't worry - Stiles did that often enough, after all - and he continued in the same direction: towards the wildling's tree.

He could feel the sun creeping closer, though the moon wasn't blocked yet. Derek ran faster still, an extra burst of energy and worry for his pack spurring him on. As he ran between the trees, he noticed that the forest smelled _different_. It wasn't bad and it didn't feel as though anything was wrong, but instead, it felt as though the trees were taller, the air was sweeter, the water cleaner. Derek could even smell the ripeness of the berries and fruits that littered the trees around him, though he was positive he hadn't smelled them a minute ago. He couldn't stop to check or even to drink the water, even though it smelled fresh and pure and clean, and he continued towards Stiles' tree.

When he was only a few hundred metres away from the wildling's territory, without warning, the sun came overhead and the moon's was blocked completely, the moon leaking to a dull rusty red. Derek let out a howl, trying to let his pack know he'd be late and he was sorry; _I'm so sorry, Erica_. Before he could finish his howl, Derek stumbled and tripped over his feet and a tree root. His howl became a roar of pain instead as four feet became two, his body twisting and bending out of shape, turning back to a human as painfully, unwillingly, and forcefully as possible.

Derek crouched over on all fours on the ground, naked, panting, and pained. His body trembled, so unused to the prolonged feeling, and he couldn't even bring himself to stand. He was fairly sure he'd broken a leg when he'd tripped over, but Derek didn't want to check, not yet. He was thinking over his possibilities - stay where he was and wait out the Blood Moon so his leg could heal, try to get back to his pack despite the pain, or continue on to find the wildling - when the wildling burst through the trees, knife in hand and the puppy and kitten peeking out of the pouch around his waist.

"Hey, you're okay," Derek said, a feeling of relief filling, almost enough to distract from the throbbing pain radiating from his leg.

"Red wolf. _Fuck_ ," Stiles replied, seeing his leg at an awkward angle.

"Yeah, that's about right. Can you go get the pack?" Derek asked, hoping that once - just this once - the wildling would understand him.

Stiles tilted his head to the side. "Pack?" Without waiting for an answer, Stiles tipped his head back and looked up at the red moon above them. "Moon. Fuck."

"Boy, am I glad you know that word," Derek bit out, his fingers digging into the dirt beneath him.

Stiles walked over to Derek slowly and cautiously, like he was an injured deer who might get spooked and run off, even with a broken leg. When he was close enough, Stiles pressed a hand to Derek's calf, firm enough to bring another spike of sharp pain. Derek didn't even get a chance to cry out in pain because then Stiles _did something_ and his leg no longer felt pained.

Just as slow and as cautious as Stiles had moved a moment before, Derek let go of the dirt and stood up. He looked down at his leg - no weird angle, no pain, not even an ache - and then looked to the wildling. "What did you do?"

The wildling tore his gaze away from Derek's crotch, his face burning as red as the moon above, and Derek would be lying if he said he couldn't smell the sharp scent of desire. Then, as the wildling took a deep breath, the scent disappeared entirely and he no longer looked as flushed.

The wildling looked up at the moon, frowning slightly, then back to Derek and poked his leg briefly. "Fast."

Derek was confused, but he had no idea what to say in response. "Thank you," he said instead, and started back towards the loft.

"Wait!" Stiles called, stopping him.

Derek waited, watching as Stiles ran back to his tree, returning with an odd blanket, made from woven twigs and leaves, with patches of animal fur on the inside. Stiles carefully wrapped it around Derek's shoulders, then clipped it at his neck to keep the blanket in place. Derek was surprised at his actions, only then realising that he actually was very cold and had goosebumps trailing up his arms, his body trembling without him even noticing.

"Warm?" Stiles asked.

"Yes," Derek said, nodding. "Thank you," he repeated for the second time.

Stiles smiled and led Derek through the forest, back towards his pack.

They arrived almost thirty minutes later, the trip both longer and shorter than Derek expected - he was certain that Stiles' territory was further into the forest than a mere thirty minute walk - and came into the loft to hear the betas arguing. Derek had grabbed his clothes at the entry of the building and changed into them on the way up the stairs (Stiles still didn't like using the elevator, no matter how many times they showed him it was safe and secure).

"We should go look for him! What if he's out there, hurt and injured?!" Erica snapped.

"Derek said to stay together, to stay safe," Isaac argued.

"We should have some way of protecting ourselves until he gets back; I'm going to make a few Molotov cocktails," Lydia announced.

"Ah, yes, let's welcome our Alpha back into his home with self-igniting cocktails. That's a brilliant idea," Cora snapped.

"Do you have a better one?"

"We should invite Allison here; she can protect us until Derek gets back, or at least until the Blood Moon is over and then we can go look for him."

"Derek said that I'm in charge until he's back. He said to keep everyone together and safe, and that's what I plan on doing. We are _not_ inviting Allison, and you are _not_ making Molotov cocktails. We are going to sit down, read or watch a movie, and wait," Boyd said, his voice deep and calm, and at his words, the rest of the betas went silent.

"Pack!" Stiles said as if in understanding, his voice loud in the quiet loft.

"Stiles? _Derek!_ " Erica said, rushing out of the lounge room to throw herself at Derek, hugging him tightly. " _You promised_ ," she whispered against his neck, sounding far more vulnerable than she had in some time, her cheeks wet with tears.

"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left," Derek admitted, wincing and patting her on the back gently.

"You found Stiles, so that's good," Erica said as she pulled away, attempting a smile. "You owe me though."

"Mani-pedi?" he asked.

"Mani-pedi," Erica agreed, smiling brighter now.

Derek knew that Erica mostly wanted to go out with him because it was a way for them to spend time together where she could admit her worries without the rest of the pack overhearing or commenting. Before her kidnapping, they had gone out for a manicure and pedicure every few months, and even though Derek came out of the small salon feeling nauseous at the overwhelming scent of nail polish and chemicals, he had to admit that it was a good way to get to know his beta better. He tried to do something similar with the rest of his pack to have one-on-one time together where they could talk without fear of retribution, anger, or teasing.

Lydia preferred shopping trips; Cora liked to run; Boyd was harder to get information out of, but he was working on it the best he could; Isaac usually admitted his own fears in the dark when he felt safe and secure; and Scott was an open book of emotions and feelings, though that didn't mean he liked to discuss them often, though Derek was trying with him as well.

"Glad to see our illustrious leader has return- What happened to you?" Lydia asked, her acerbic tone giving way to concern when she saw the pale pallor to his skin.

"I broke my leg when the Blood Moon began," Derek admitted. "The wildling... Stiles healed me somehow. Oh, your blanket," he said, holding it out for the wildling as he sat down on the couch gingerly, just in case the pain returned.

Stiles took it and wrapped it around himself, looking for his nest before pulling it next to the couch, closest to Derek. Before anyone could say or do anything, Stiles took the puppy and kitten out of his pouch, and settled down to sleep. The puppy bounded to the betas, eager for attention and to lick them as much as possible, while the kitten groomed itself as it decided whether the attention was required. A moment later, the kitten made its way into the cooing mess of humans and demanded their attention as well.

Derek watched as the earlier tension between his pack dissipated easily, all of them preoccupied with petting the two animals instead. Despite their earlier intentions to have a wild party, they mostly spent the rest of the Blood Moon doing as Boyd suggested: reading a book, watching a movie, and drinking a few beers just because they could.

Derek didn't even have to ask his pack about a dog pile, the night coming to a close with his pack surrounding him on the couch and floor already. Isaac was tucked up against the other side of his leg, Scott was sleeping on Isaac, Erica was curled up beside Derek on the couch, Boyd next to her. On Derek's other side, Cora and Lydia were starting to doze off. Despite the bad start to the Blood Moon, Derek had to admit that it was ending a lot better than he had expected. In some way, Derek knew that he had the wildling to thank for that.

...

Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles was confused. Sometimes he helped animals instead of eating them, but it usually took several times to heal them completely, often with him becoming exhausted after a few hours. Now, after healing the red-eyed wolf's broken leg, Stiles felt... fine. He wasn't tired and he didn't know why.

"Read to me, please?" Stiles asked, setting a book beside the red one.

Lydia blinked in surprise on seeing the Druid book that Stiles had set down. "Are you sure?"

Stiles just sat across from her and waited.

"I'll take that as a yes," she muttered, opening the cover carefully and looking at the contents page curiously. While Lydia might not have magic like Stiles apparently did, that didn't mean she wasn't curious about the process and outcomes.

Opening the book, she started to read. Beside her, Lydia noticed that the wildling was restless and annoyed, and he soon shook his head at her, snatching the book from her hands and replacing it with another one. Surprised at the sudden outburst, Lydia frowned but started reading again. Again, she noticed that Stiles was getting that same restless and annoyed expression as before. She closed the book and set it down before he could try to snatch it away again, then tried with a third book instead. It was the same response, and Stiles snarled under his breath as though frustrated with the books and his own lack of understanding.

"I could read the dictionary to you again?" Lydia offered, indicating to the large tome beside her. It was dry and dull as nearly anything she'd ever read before - including the college textbooks she'd been reading over the summer - but on the plus side, she was increasing her vocabulary as well as Stiles'.

Stiles shook his head. There was no point asking the red one to read the books, he realised now; she didn't have an inside voice like he did, like the Druid did. He gathered the three books up in his arms and left, leaving the red one confused behind him.

Stiles tried the same with four of the half-wolves, all with the same result: a lack of understanding and an increase in confusion. He was getting more and more frustrated with _not knowing_ that his fingertips had flickers of blue electricity along them. Eventually, he went to the red-eyed wolf, who was sitting in the lounge room, on the lounge seat that was closest to Stiles' nest. He wondered for a moment if the red-eyed wolf would be able to read the books with an inside voice; _maybe he would be better as a born wolf, as a red-eyed wolf?_

"Read, please?" he asked, tired of words and how they _paled_ in comparison to everything else he knew.

Derek set his own book aside and took one of the offered ones, just as surprised as his pack had been to see the Druid books. "Are you sure?"

Stiles just sat on his nest and waited, watching impatiently.

"All right," Derek said with a shrug, opening the book cover and starting to read.

There was _still_ no understanding, no inside voice, and Stiles snarled in annoyance, standing up to take the book back.

As Stiles snatched the book, Derek growled at him and _that_ Stiles understood. He nodded excitedly, putting the book back on the wolf's lap. He then patted the red-eyed wolf on the chest and indicated to the book again.

"Read. Inside," he said, trying to convey his meaning properly.

Derek frowned, looking from Stiles to the book in confusion. "We are inside."

Stiles snarled and indicated to the book again, trying to demonstrate what he meant. _Why did words have to be so confusing?_ When that didn't seem to have any impact on the red-eyed wolf, Stiles tried again with his own inside voice, the sound shaking the walls and rattling the glass in their window panes.

"Read. Inside," Stiles repeated, patting his chest, then Derek's again.

"You want my wolf to read this?" Derek asked, head tilted.

"Yes! Fuck. Wolf, yes."

"Translating Latin into English into wolf is going to give me one hell of a headache," Derek muttered, almost to himself, but he opened the book again and started to read with his wolf's voice, the sounds guttural and deep.

Stiles wanted to laugh in joy - **_this_** _he could understand!_ Instead, he sat as still as if he was learning a lesson from his _Babcia_ , and listened just as carefully. A few words were mispronounced or didn't really make sense in the translation from monster/human to wolf, but with his Polish and Druid lessons, Stiles understood more than he realised.

Finally, the red-eyed wolf reached the part about moons, and Stiles sat up straighter, listening intently.

 _Lunar eclipses can increase a Druid's power and also allow for a faster recovery between spells. Druids' must be cautious and not overexert themselves, as using too much of their power in this time can exhaust them in the following days or weeks_.

Stiles recognised a few words from the dictionary, but not all of them; they were only halfway through the letter E. Other words he guessed at their meanings, and managed to put the sentences together into something he thought he understood: the lunar eclipse had helped him heal the red-eyed wolf faster and he hadn't become as tired as usual since he was stronger in that time as well.

The red-eyed wolf was still reading, and Stiles listened to the rest of the chapter before he let the wolf stop, the information and words swirling about in his head like the wind playing with leaves on the forest floor. There were a few things mentioned that Stiles suspected he'd need to be much further into the dictionary to understand fully, and resolved to get the red one to read more of that to him tomorrow.

...

"What are you doing?"

Scott started at his Alpha's voice, and tried for a quick and charming smile. "We're... uh," he stumbled, his smile faltering.

Derek sniffed, scenting the two people still lingering outside of the loft. "You brought Allison here? Were you planning on sneaking her inside when I wasn't looking? You do realise that I can smell her, right?"

Scott closed and opened his mouth a few times, then his jaw set stubbornly. "We wanted to spend time with Allison without her parents barging in every other minute, and it's too cold to stay outside."

Derek raised an eyebrow slightly at his beta's stubborn tone. "You realise that if I had smelled her inside without knowing how or why she'd arrived, I would've thought it was an attack?"

"She's wouldn't hurt you - "

"I'm not worried for _my_ safety, I'm worried for yours, for my pack's," Derek interrupted, trying to convey and stress just how much it meant to him, what it meant for his pack. Scott's face fell and Derek sighed, shaking his head. "You could have just _asked_ , Scott," he said, wondering if he was really so awful an Alpha that his own pack members couldn't approach him.

 _Did they really hate him that much, or hadn't he tried hard enough to mend his ways?_ He really was trying - the electric blue nail polish on his fingernails and toenails was surely a testament to that - but now it felt like it just wasn't enough, it would _never_ be enough.

Scott could probably scent his disappointment, so Derek tried to reign it back in, though he was unsuccessful if Scott's wounded expression was any judge.

"You can use one of the lower apartments; you might get some more peace than up here," Derek added when Erica shrieked and Cora growled, the noise of their wrestling match easily escaping the confines of the lounge room walls. "Use one of the apartments on the South side, they'll be warmer from the sun."

Scott smiled and then nodded firmly before leaving the loft, two pairs of feet joining his.

Derek felt a tense feeling settling between his shoulder blades. He knew that Allison wasn't like Kate, he had to believe that, but there were some days when he couldn't help but see Kate in everyone and everything - a knife left on the kitchen bench, Erica's blonde hair, and the sharp scent of perfume that Lydia wore.

"I'm heading out," Derek called over his shoulder. A run in the forest would help settle his nerves, and maybe he'd be able to stand being in the same building as the hunter without feeling like he was being suffocated.

Derek didn't wait for a response, knowing that at least Boyd had heard him, Erica's laughter and Lydia's shriek enveloping his words. He jogged downstairs, not wanting to use the elevator, and left the building with a small burst of relief. Part of his wolf gnawed at him, anxious at leaving his pack alone in the building with a hunter - after all, they both knew what _one hunter_ could do to a whole pack of werewolves - but Derek had to trust his betas, had to trust that they knew what they were doing. His past mistakes shouldn't dictate their present or future; they were their own people. He started jogging towards the forest, breaking out into a run as he reached the tree line.

Had he known the scene that greeted him on his return home, Derek would have stayed with his pack instead.

...

Stiles heard it first, even over the half-wolves' ears. Though, perhaps that wasn't right; he certainly _felt_ it first, the person intruding on the red-eyed wolf's property. He had put a line of dirt and ash along the edge of the property when he'd taken the puppy and kitten out earlier that week. It was something simple enough, nothing to restrict the half-wolves since they wouldn't like being trapped any more than he would, but he had put the line up as a justified precaution. Considering the three red-eyed wolves that had come here before, Stiles wanted to know if something like that was going to happen again.

The half-wolves were playing a game: the blonde wolf had managed to pin the brunette one down, the red one standing over both of them victoriously. The black one seemed to be counting, watching them all carefully, and then with a laugh of victory, they started all over again. Stiles wanted to join in; he was almost certain he knew how to play this game, just like the fox and coyote cubs played in the forest.

Then Stiles felt it: his careful, simple line being disturbed.

He went still at the realisation and then he turned invisible, unnoticed by the others. Stiles left the kitten and puppy sleeping in his nest, used a small piece of willpower to keep them asleep and safe, slowly moving the nest under the lounge to keep the two small animals hidden. They were getting bigger and almost didn't fit, but Stiles was able to fix that easily enough, and they were soon safe and hidden.

With that done, Stiles crept over to the window, looking out to the street below. It was the building's only open entrance, as he'd discovered in his wanderings. That meant it restricted who could come in and out, and while the wolves themselves would never be trapped since they could easily break down any of the blocked exits, it provided extra protection by forcing their enemies through the one door.

Spying a monster walking towards the building, Stiles eyes' widened. He left the lounge room, hurried out of the loft and downstairs. His nose wrinkled when he saw the state of the curly and crooked ones, both closer to undressed than dressed and pressed up against the strong brunette from before, the one who had knives under her clothes. Stiles let out a small growl, drawing the attention of the three, though they couldn't see him, and continued on when he saw them hurrying to get dressed again.

Stiles made it downstairs in time to see the front door open easily, the monster standing by the elevator. _No, not a monster: a wolf_ , he corrected, seeing the flash of colour in the wolf's eyes. Though, if he was a friendly wolf, then he wouldn't have alerted Stiles to his presence by stepping over the line. Friendly wolves could come and go, monsters and bad wolves could not.

The wolf didn't hear or smell him, just like Stiles had willed it, and Stiles looked from the descending elevator to the wolf, to the front door, and up towards the half-wolves upstairs. He didn't know whether to stay with the half-wolves or if he should go find the red wolf to come back to his pack. Stiles looked at the wolf once more, his vision shifting from the physical world to the world outside of his body, and he recoiled in revulsion at the sight of the swirling mess of black and red that permeated from the wolf. It was even worse than the sickness that had enveloped the red wolf after he had killed the three red-eyed wolves.

His decision made, Stiles was back inside his body a moment later and he took off up the stairs. The curly and crooked ones were dressed and snarling under their breath, the strong brunette standing beside them with her knives up. Stiles showed himself in a flash and indicated for them to follow him. The curly one stepped forward immediately, but the crooked one didn't, so Stiles glared and _pulled_ at him from the doorway. They didn't hesitate after that - they couldn't - and Stiles turned invisible once more as he put them in the loft with the rest of the half-wolves.

By now, the others upstairs had heard the elevator and realised that it wasn't their Alpha. The black one was standing with his claws out, snarling under his breath. He didn't even blink when the crooked one was thrown into the loft by an invisible presence, the curly and strong brunette following at their own accord. With that done, Stiles let go of the crooked one, and shut the loft door behind him. He didn't have a chance to set a line of dirt and earth because the elevator reached the top floor.

The wolf stepped out of the elevator calmly, then turned and bent the barred door inwards, trapping the elevator in place. It also ensured that the wolf would be alerted the moment someone tried to fix the doors: like most of the building, they weren't silent. The wolf surveyed his handiwork, pleased, and then turned to face the loft.

Stiles had seen the wolf's aura, the presence of the wolf, but that didn't prepare him for the sight of his eyes. While the red-eyed wolf had ruby red eyes, and even the three red-eyed wolves had a darker crimson colour, this wolf's eyes were a sickly colour that looked closer to black sludge than the clear red he was used to seeing.

Stiles stayed back, watching as the wolf walked towards the loft with purposeful movements. The wolf slid the door open and gave the half-wolves a smile that was far more predatory than friendly.

"Surely that's no way to greet your old pack-mate?"

...

Derek was almost worn out. He'd run further into the forest than he'd originally intended, and had barely left himself enough energy to get home. It didn't help that halfway through his run, he'd felt his pack's flurry of emotions: confusion, wariness, fear. Derek had turned around immediately, hoping they were all right.

_Maybe they'd just walked in on Scott and Isaac naked?_

He doubted the thought even as it came to his mind. Derek shook his head and pushed his muscles to move faster. His pack needed him.

Derek could see light up ahead, the trees thinning as he approached the edge of the forest. He wanted to barrel right through, but stopped short abruptly, his body heaving and panting for breath. Lydia had told him often enough that he needed to be subtle, to _think_ before he acted, and Derek wondered if this was one of those times. He shifted back to his human form, careful and quiet, and walked the last metre to the edge of the forest. Derek looked at the building, up to his loft, and reached out for his pack, breathing in time with them and letting his heart sync with their own heartbeats. They were frantic, worried, and scared, but they weren't harmed. Derek breathed again, slowly letting his Alpha presence curl around each of his pack until they were a little calmer. Relief unfurled from his pack, knowing that he was nearby, that he was close enough to feel them in this way.

Derek turned his attention to Boyd and Lydia, the calmest two of his pack, and tried to get them to convey what was happening. They had never tried this before, beyond conveying feelings while hunting or on a run, so Derek tried to stay calm as it took precious minutes to get any kind of response from his betas.

Boyd was usually calm and stoic, but the rest of the pack's worry and anxiety made it far too difficult for him to concentrate beyond them and their needs at that moment. Lydia had more practice with her banshee side, and could detach from her emotional state to think clearly, to attack or defend as needed. Apparently, that also worked to convey information and thoughts between their pack link, because Derek received a word, as clear as if she had said it right into his ear.

 _Peter_.

...

Stiles waited, silent and watchful as the wolf greeted the half-wolves jovially. His presence didn't make any of them back down, and Stiles could see the anxiety rolling off the red one, almost palpable in the air around them. The wolf smirked, scenting it as well, and the red one glowered, the anxiety replaced with anger and disgust and a tendril of fear.

"Come now, Lydia. Surely the sight of me isn't _still_ displeasing to you?" Peter crooned.

"Drop dead," she spat.

Peter chuckled. "You of all people should know how difficult a feat that is for me to achieve."

"Why are you here?" Boyd asked, redirecting Peter's attention away from his pack mate. "You broke the pack bond almost two months ago; we all felt it."

Beside him, Erica nodded firmly, her eyes gold and her claws out. Isaac had shifted as well and was standing on Boyd's other side, ensuring that Scott and Allison were safe behind him. Peter looked over the three betas as though they were microscopic bugs encased in amber: curious for a passing moment before moving on to being thoroughly unimpressed.

"I thought the rest of the Alpha pack would have killed at least one of you. Though, I suppose they weren't much of a threat to start with if Derek could take their leader down," Peter murmured, almost as though to himself.

"Answer the question," Erica snapped.

Peter ignored her and looked over the pack, all of them glaring and prepared to fight him at the slightest provocation. He sighed and leaned back against the doorframe, not at all threatened by their claws and fangs. "I don't suppose you know when my nephew will return, do you?"

"Why do you want to know?" Scott asked, surprised at Peter's genuinely curious tone.

...

Fear skyrocketed through every member of his pack in the same instant, the feeling reverberating through Derek until he trembled with the emotion as well. Surprised by the sudden intensity, Derek tried to regain the link with Lydia to find out what had happened.

_Danger. Peter._

He wanted to scream in frustration; Derek _knew_ that it was Peter up there, but that didn't _explain_ anything!

_Peter. Going. To._

_Going to_ ** _what?!_** his mind screamed impatiently, desperate for an answer.

Derek forced himself to breathe; they were still alive and unharmed, so that meant something, surely.

_Kill._

A feeling of dread washed over Derek. **_Who_** _was Peter going to kill? He wouldn't survive if another pack was destroyed, killed, because of him. What if it was Cora or Isaac or Boyd or Erica or Lydia or Scott? What if it was Stiles?_ Derek clutched at the nearest tree, his claws leaving deep gouges in the trunk.

_You._

...

Stiles frowned when he noticed what the wolf had missed: the red one's eyes had glazed over slightly. He had seen it happen before, just before she screamed, except this time it lacked the usual vibrations that surrounded her body. He shifted his view as he had done earlier. Stiles avoided looking at the wolf and instead looked to the half-wolves, to the red one who was there but _not there_ at the same time. He saw a line of light shining out from her body, heading out of the window before diving down sharply. Stiles stretched his own being out to join the light. He felt the red-eyed wolf's presence immediately; _the red-eyed wolf was outside!_

Relief washed through his body as the red-eyed wolf registered his presence, alive and unharmed. Through the combined efforts of the red one and the red-eyed wolf, Stiles realised that the wolf was the red-eyed wolf's uncle - his _Wujek_ \- and was planning on killing him to become even stronger. Stiles provided a mental image of the wolf's aura as he'd seen it earlier and the red one shuddered bodily in response.

The motion drew the wolf's attention and he looked at her curiously, his red eyes flashing.

"Do you have something to share with the class, dearest Lydia?"

"You're sick; you're rotting yourself from the inside out. The power doesn't agree with you, does it?" Lydia asked, her body still trembling at the sight of Peter covered in dark bloody patches, his body decaying under the weight of three Alpha's powers.

Peter had hunted down the twins that had left after Deucalion's death and added their strength and power to the Alpha strength he'd ripped from the weakest of the Alpha pack previously. It still wasn't enough to find and defeat Kate, to _kill_ her once and for all. He needed more strength, more power. He needed the power that Deucalion had, the power his nephew now had, and Peter would stop at nothing to gain the power and strength that was rightfully his.

"The power has made me stronger than any of you will ever be! Your Alpha's power _belongs_ to me!" Peter yelled, the pack flinching as he started to shift and transform into the monster he had been when he first bit Scott.

This time, with the twins' added power, he grew even larger than he had been before. Within a heartbeat, he had changed from a wolf to a towering abomination. Peter roared and the window panes rattled fiercely before shattering, wind rushing in through the broken glass, and whipping up anything light and not held down.

Before Peter could say or do anything, Cora launched herself at him, scratching thick lines down his torso. Peter swatted her away as easily as a fly, Cora connecting with a concrete pillar and crumpling. It took less time for her to fall than it did for his wounds to heal.

Stiles felt the red-eyed wolf's anger at the treatment of his sister, his pack, and was surprised to realise that his own anger accompanied the wolf's. The curly and crooked ones attacked next, the strong brunette with them, but they too were thrown aside. The curly and crooked ones twisted around the brunette to cushion her fall, but they had to mend broken bones and bruised bodies before they could stand again.

Stiles realised a moment too late that the red one was a sitting duck, still linked to the red-eyed wolf and unprotected now that most of the pack was scattered around the loft. The blonde half-wolf was in front of her a mere second before Peter attacked, both women knocked back and Stiles' link to the red-eyed wolf broke in the same instant. The black one was the last remaining half-wolf, and he faced Peter, claws out and eyes gold.

Boyd snarled as Peter advanced, needing only two strides to move across the loft to him, and he raised his arm just in time to stop Peter from decapitating him. Boyd's action resulted in five long gouges down his forearm, bone showing and blood gushing. It covered Peter's torso and he laughed as cruelly as his form allowed.

The pack was down and out in a matter of seconds. Stiles stared, his mouth dry and his stomach churning. He had never seen anything like this wolf before; he had no idea if he could even harm it, let alone defeat it.

...

Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

By the time the pack link broke, Derek had had enough of patience and subtlety. His pack was being hurt _again_ by his uncle _again_ ; he couldn't stand by and wait any longer. Derek roared, a challenge and a threat rolled into one. He stepped out of the forest and into the parking lot, hoping that Peter would accept the challenge and leave his pack alone.

Derek glanced over to the reddish blood stain that Kali and Ennis had left behind on the gravel and briefly wondered if that was all he'd ever be good for: blood and death.

Peter threw himself out of the broken loft window, accepting the challenge with a deafening roar of his own, and landed with a heavy thud that shook the ground itself. His grotesque face was twisted into a sneer. "You called?"

"Leave them alone: it's me you want."

"Actually, it's your power I want. The pack will be mine when you're dead; I get the power of an Alpha and a pack, pre-made for me," Peter sneered.

Derek felt cold at the thought of Peter destroying and poisoning his pack with his rotten power and insatiable thirst for death and vengeance. It had taken most of his power to get Peter to submit even when he had Deucalion's power; now that Peter had the power of _three_ Alphas within him, there was no way that Derek would be able to control him again, and they both knew it.

Peter leapt at Derek, claws outstretched, fangs dripping, and blood smeared on his body and face. 

...

Stiles was running downstairs before the red-eyed wolf's challenge had finished echoing from outside. He heard the glass shatter behind him, the wolf jumping from the building's top floor in response to the red-eyed wolf's challenge, and Stiles breathed a small sigh of relief that the rest of the pack would be all right. He still had no idea what to do or how to defeat the wolf, but he refused to let the red-eyed wolf face him alone.

Stiles was outside in less than a minute, just in time to see the wolf leap at the red-eyed wolf, snarling and angry. The red-eyed wolf was pushed backwards by several metres, his feet digging thick lines into the gravel.

"Come on, Derek, kick his ass!" the blonde wolf called from behind Stiles abruptly.

He turned to see the pack standing around the doorway, watching the fight anxiously, and knew that like him, they weren't going to let the red-eyed wolf fight alone either. Under the wolf's hold, the red-eyed wolf was snarling and struggling, trying to keep the wolf with him instead of getting near his pack. Stiles shifted his view from the physical world to the world of light and power, and tried - yet again - not to wince or shudder at the wolf's black and red rotting state. The red-eyed wolf had a flow of red light around him, fierce and protective, designed to keep the wolf distracted and his pack safe.

Stiles looked beyond the two fighting wolves, a flash of blue catching his attention. The power that he'd released into the forest was flickering through the trees, floating between leaves and shrubs, over roots and streams, around animals and berries, until it seemed as though a full wall gathered at the edge of the forest, waiting and pulsing gently. Stiles frowned; he'd never seen this happen before, and his Matka had never mentioned it either. Stiles reached his light self out towards the wall of blue, trying to determine what the forest wanted him to do. The answer hit him like a car crash, and Stiles remembered that feeling all too well, pulled back into his body abruptly with a cry behind his clenched teeth.

The half-wolves around him looked to him in concern, but Stiles didn't have any time to explain. His fingers trembled for a moment, but he did as the forest permitted, and started to pull on the blue wall of power, drawing tendrils up and over the fighting wolves.

When he had gathered enough power, Stiles pressed his hand to the black wolf, the red-eyed wolf's second in command. The black wolf frowned for a split second, but then Stiles pushed his _intent_ into the power as well, and the black wolf nodded in understanding, his eyes bleeding from gold to red.

...

Derek kept holding Peter off for as long as he possibly could, hoping that he might be able to injure him, or tire him, or even just distract him long enough that Derek could get his pack out of here. He could _hear, see, feel_ them at the edge of his consciousness, hovering and anxious, and he wanted them to get away, to survive, even if it meant that _he_ didn't. They would be able to escape and band together, to hold off Peter longer than he could, long enough to get another Alpha to accept them as a pack. He had to believe that they would survive.

Peter snarled, his claws slicing into Derek's shoulder, a sneer replacing his snarl. "You won't win, nephew! _I am the Alpha!_ "

" _We both are_ ," Derek growled back at him, digging his shoulder deeper into Peter's claws until he heard the sound of claw against bone.

It levered Peter's other clawed hand - far too close to Derek's neck for his liking - away from him enough that he felt safe to breathe once more.

Peter's response was stopped short when they both felt a shift in the air around them. They couldn't see what was happening, nor the cause for the shift, but Derek could take an educated guess that it had something to do with Stiles.

Peter's eyes narrowed and he squeezed tightly around Derek's shoulder, claw starting to make its way through bone and muscle. "Do you have the dear Dr. Deaton on your side?"

Derek didn't reply, but his eyes flashed a deeper red and he managed to move his unburdened arm enough to get his own claws into Peter's side, claws elongated against his ribs. He could feel the skin knitting together around his fingers and scratched harder, trying to get through the layers and stop the healing.

Three Alpha powers against one; the wildling had healed him, and while Derek would never regret that aspect of it, he momentarily wished he had Deucalion's power within him again.

A low rumbling snarl started from the apartment building, growing in intensity and volume and number, until it felt as though every pack member Derek had ever had was there, growling and snarling in anger. Peter looked as confused as he felt, but neither of them stopped in their battle, Peter still trying to dismember him at the shoulder and neck, and Derek aiming for the tiny target of his uncle's heart.

...

Every pack member - even the strong brunette and the red one - had been granted the forest's power, their eyes red and their bonds shifting and snapping, taut and strong and _golden_ between them. They were seven separate beings, yet one at the same time, their thoughts and intentions shared between them and the power they shared.

Stiles heard the growling, the snarl, the feel of it growing within his own chest, and he waited a second longer before he took on the forest's power for himself, his eyes bleeding to red. The golden lines stretched out to encompass him as well, and as Stiles smiled, so did the others in the pack.

They moved forward as one, the growling snarl echoing and reverberating around them, through them. They reached the two wolves as a group, hands reaching for the sick and rotting wolf, claws tearing him away from the red-eyed wolf. They couldn't hold him for long, not with his power mutating the way it was, but they could hope to hold him long enough for Stiles to do what was necessary.

The half-wolves held the wolf down, the wolf thrashing and snarling and scratching at them. Their wounds healed in seconds instead of minutes or hours, and the wolf's eyes widened, surprise and fear in the blood-red depths. The emotion didn't stay for long, the wolf trying harder to get out of their grasp, swiping and scratching and clawing at them.

Stiles was caught by a claw, his head snapping back with the impact, a small line of blood flying out before him. His blood hit the red-eyed wolf on the face, and at the same time, it seemed to snap the red-eyed wolf out of his daze.

The red-eyed wolf's eyes narrowed and _finally_ , his snarl joined in with the rest of the pack's, the noise flying out through them, through the forest, and into the town itself. The red-eyed wolf launched himself at the wolf, dug his clawed hands into the wolf's shoulders to keep him down, despite the blood and pain from his own shoulder.

"Let go of me! I'm the Alpha! _I AM THE ALPHA!_ " Peter screamed under them, flinging an arm away, pushing at a hand, scratching at Derek's chest and drawing more blood.

"We're _all_ Alphas now," they snarled back at him, their fingers grabbing him and digging in deeper, holding him down as firm as they possibly could.

Peter struggled again, but this time, he couldn't even move Allison's hold on him.

Stiles saw his chance and he took it, pressing his hands over the wolf's face, his fingers squeezing and clenching into the skin there. He started to tear at the wolf, taking pieces of flesh and rotting power with him, blood staining all of them as the wolf tried to roar under their hands and hold, under Stiles.

Stiles continued to tear and dig and tear, his fingers _pulling_ at the rotting mass of red and black power that surrounded and consumed the wolf. Stiles ached and sweat, his eyes still bleeding red, his face literally bleeding, and a wolf's power thrumming and pulsing through his veins.

The half-wolves around him slowly lessened their grip on the wolf as he stopped fighting, the snarling and screaming noise he was making fading and turning into body wracking sobs instead. The red-eyed wolf stayed on top of the wolf, holding him down until Stiles was finished, until there was no power left, until none of the swirling black and red rotting mass surrounding the wolf remained, until the wolf was as clear and clean as the day he'd been born. The holes and scratches in the wolf's face had healed, though he didn't seem aware of them anymore, still sobbing and crying beneath them.

Stiles stood up, hands bloodied and shaking, and he reached out to the black half-wolf, slowing drawing out the red-eyed power the forest had granted him. He did the same to the other six in turn, returning the blue power back to the forest, before repeating the action once more with the power inside of himself. As soon as he did that, Stiles fell to his knees and screamed, golden power lighting him up from the inside out, and pouring out straight up into the sky.

The light continued for a full minute before fading completely, and Stiles fell face-first onto the gravel, unaware and unconscious.

...

Derek slowly retracted his claws from Peter's torso, watching as the skin knit itself together, far too fast to be considered normal for werewolf healing. Not to mention the blue glow that surrounded the wounds; Derek knew that that was _definitely_ not a product of werewolf healing. Then there was the fact that Peter was no longer a werewolf anymore. The man beneath him, sobbing and somehow _smaller_ than he'd been a minute ago, smelled exactly like a human, without a drop of werewolf blood within him.

Derek looked from Peter to Stiles, the young man unconscious, but still breathing. His face was bloodied and scratched, as were his hands, and Derek forced himself to breathe as well. He looked up to his pack, and saw that their eyes were no longer red, the colour fading when the wildling fainted. Their chests were heaving and their eyes wide as they all tried to come to terms with what had just happened. Derek felt the same.

"Are you all right?" Derek asked, his voice rasping in his throat. He stood up too fast, remembering too late about his almost-severed arm, and groaned in pain.

"We're fine. We need to get you inside where you can heal," Lydia said.

Beside her, Boyd nodded firmly. "Erica and I will bring Stiles and Peter upstairs," he said, looking to the wildling and Peter, who had finally stopped sobbing and had either passed out or exhausted himself with the sudden shock of transitioning from an all-powerful Alpha to a mere human. "Allison, you, Scott, and Isaac can help Lydia with Derek."

The three nodded, even Allison, and Derek let his pack members lead him upstairs without a word of complaint. Scott and Isaac were taller than Lydia and practically carried him up the stairs - the elevator was bent out of shape, apparently - while Allison and Lydia went ahead at a faster pace to ready the first aid kits.

They'd just reached the landing for the loft when a screech of tyres on gravel directed their attention back outside.

Scott frowned. "It's Deaton."

"He's not alone," Isaac added. "There's another car out there."

Lydia stepped out of the loft entrance, eyes wide. "It's the Sheriff."

Derek indicated for Scott and Isaac to stop, using the remaining dregs of his energy to sniff and listen, determining if there was a threat outside his front door. "They saw the light; no one else did, so they've come to investigate. The Sheriff knows about the paranormal side of town, apparently."

The pack members were all surprised at this revelation, but then Derek's knees buckled and he almost slipped out of Scott and Isaac's grasp. They hurried to hold him upright again.

"That doesn't matter right now; fixing you up matters," Lydia said. "If she knows, she might be able to help. Bring them both inside, quickly," she added, knowing Boyd and Erica would hear her easily. "Be careful," Lydia snapped when Derek gasped in pain as Scott accidentally grabbed his torn arm.

Scott winced and readjusted his grip. "Sorry, Alpha," he apologised.

Derek couldn't bring himself to answer verbally, his tongue caught between his teeth, but he tried to give a nod in response. He blacked out momentarily, not sure if he'd completed the nod or if his chin had simply fallen onto his chest instead. When he came to himself, Derek found that he was lying on his lounge with his pack around him, Allison threading a needle beside him, and the Sheriff of all people holding him down on the lounge.

There was a rolling feeling of nausea in his stomach, and he tried to warn the others, but then he was throwing up into a waiting bucket that Deaton was holding, the man actually looking vaguely worried rather than expressionless as usual. Cora, Scott and Isaac were taking his pain in small increments, alternating between them when the pain became too much. Erica was wiping his brow with a cool cloth and murmuring soft reassurances, almost too low for Derek to hear properly.

He was vaguely aware of the Sheriff talking to Boyd and Lydia throughout all of this, as though werewolves with torn arms throwing up next to her was an everyday occurrence. Her Deputy - _Harris, Paris, something like that_ \- was standing at the end of the couch, watching everyone and Derek might have been hallucinating from the pain, but he swore that the man's eyes were glowing orange.

"Stiles is sleeping. Allison's already stitched the wound on his face," Erica whispered when she felt Derek tense under her hands, already knowing why her Alpha was worrying, not about himself but his pack, despite his own arm almost severed at the shoulder and a fever setting in. "The puppy and kitten are with him as well, and Peter's in the spare bedroom. Deaton's keeping him in there with a ward," she added.

Derek exhaled shakily. _His pack was alive, they were safe, and no one had died_. He reminded himself of this two more times before he allowed himself to slip into a dark and peaceful sleep.

...

Lydia listened to the Sheriff and Deaton as intently as possible, knowing that Derek would want a full rundown of the _what_ and _why_ and _how_ as soon as he woke up again.

"He is a beacon, in every sense of the word. There's a reason the town is called Beacon Hills, after all."

"Beacon Hills was founded almost four-hundred years ago; Stiles is eighteen," Lydia said, eyebrow arched in disbelief.

"The beacon hasn't always been the same person, but the family... well, the Gajos family has been here since the first founders, and the forest chose them as its protectors."

Allison was the one to frown at this. "What if someone in the family doesn't procreate? It doesn't seem like a high priority for Stiles right now; he can hardly speak, let alone date someone."

"The forest will ensure his survival, so long as he does the same for the forest. One of the Gajos beacons lived for a hundred and twenty-three years until her niece was born," Deaton replied.

"How do you know about... everything?" Isaac asked the Sheriff now that Derek was resting comfortably and sleeping.

Tara smiled as though expecting nothing less. "I went through a rough patch after John's death. I started going over old cases, and after a run-in with a witch, I found out more than I intended. Maggie's been extremely helpful with some of the more... difficult cases, and she's been teaching me a few things," she added, cupping her hands and parting them to reveal a blue flame between her palms, Isaac staring in awe.

"What about you?" Scott asked the Deputy, who'd remained silent thus far.

"I was drawn to Beacon Hills, for lack of a better word. Hellhound," Parrish added, his eyes flickering to orange.

Lydia's eyes widened at his admission. "It is still too early in the morning to be dealing with the concept of Hell - and presumably Heaven?"

Even though it was past noon, Parrish just nodded understandably.

"May we contact the three of you at a later time? Our Alpha will require time to heal, and I'm sure that he would like to talk to you himself at some point," Boyd said, diplomatically not bringing up the issue that they all felt vulnerable, and Derek would probably see the Druid, witch, and Hellhound as a threat to his pack.

"You've got my number," Deaton said, nodding to Scott.

"My business card; you can reach either myself or Deputy Parrish at the station number listed there," Tara said, handing her card to Boyd.

"Thank you," Boyd said, handing the card to Lydia, who took it with a firm nod.

Through an unspoken agreement, they'd both decided that while Boyd was Derek's right-hand man, Lydia was most certainly the left.

The pack was alone soon after, and Allison tugged at the hem of her dress, looking between the others. She seemed far more vulnerable than they'd seen her before, and seemed to contemplate what she was going to say for a good minute before actually opening her mouth to talk. "Can I stay?"

"Of course," Erica said, sounding surprised at her hesitant question. "You're pack now, sweetheart."

Allison smiled broadly, and across the room, both Isaac and Scott looked at her lovingly.

Cora rolled her eyes at the display of affection and moved to sit by her brother, putting her hand on his, gently drawing out a line of pain.

"Show me how to do that?" Erica asked. "I never got the hang of it, before..." she trailed off and shrugged. _Before_ seemed like enough of an explanation.

Cora nodded and Erica sat beside her, Boyd walking over to watch as well. Lydia was curious to see how it worked for herself, Allison standing beside her. Isaac and Scott added their own explanations and descriptions the best they could. Throughout the rest of the night, Derek's pack took turns at drawing out pain from their Alpha, thick black lines along their arms and tears along their cheeks.

...

In the corner of the lounge room, Stiles slept through the night and recovered as well. The kitten and puppy were curled up beside him, breathing and keeping close after the wolf's scent had scared them both.

As he slept, in his mind's eye, Stiles could see soft golden lines linking him to both tiny creatures, as well as each person in Derek's pack. Another golden thread linked to the coyote, still deep in the forest, and Stiles was pleased to see she still considered him a friend. There was even a weak thread to the spare room where the wolf slept, though Stiles knew that it would only strengthen if the wolf wanted. Stiles would not be upset if the wolf did not want to strengthen the line between them, it could be ignored easily enough as they had not had much time together and, besides, Stiles had removed the wolf from Peter, after all.

The threads linking between people stretched out with one thread from each person, both lines intertwining and combining to become thicker and more stable; one person alone couldn't sustain the thread between them, no matter how much they may have wanted to.

There was one line that was different: a pink line that pulsed and throbbed and beat like a heart. Stiles followed the line to find that it was strung between his body and Derek's.

Stiles contemplated the pink string for a long time, looking at Derek and himself in a new light. The pink colour sometimes flickered to red on both of their ends, but Stiles knew that it could still be broken: the string itself wasn't enough, as they _both_ had to believe it. It could change to gold or change to red, or it could fray and break completely. This thread would not be as easy to ignore as the soft gold one between himself and Peter. The pink thread had a core of gold, the two pink threads weaving around the gold, reaching out towards the other. They had yet to join, and Stiles knew that when they did, the line between them would turn to a vibrant red, as bright as Derek's eyes.

Stiles thought of the red line he had seen before, strung between his Matka and Ojeic. He wondered if he would feel the same way about Derek as his parents had felt about each other. His Matka had been his Ojeic's heartbeat, his life and love and soul, and after her death, not even Stiles or his friends or his job could console him. His Ojeic's heart had broken, shattered into a million tiny fragments, and without his _kochanie_ , his _prawdziwa miłość,_ nothing else in the world mattered, not even himself. (Sweetheart, true love)

Stiles knew that if he allowed the same to happen to himself - to allow Derek to _become_ his heartbeat instead of letting their hearts beat together, side by side - then if anything happened to Derek, not even the forest would be able to heal him. Stiles was determined not to let that happen.

...

Thanks for reading!


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